


III: What Was Forgotten (May Come Back in Time)

by SilverAndGreen



Series: Spells of Seven [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Aurors, Childhood Friends, Concordia - Freeform, Explicit Language, Friendship, Gen, Gryffindor!Taehyung, Healer!Hoseok, Healers, Hogwarts, Hufflepuff!Jimin, Loss, M/M, Ministry of Magic, Minor Character Death, Minor Character(s), Mystery, Professor!Namjoon, Quidditch, Secret Organisation, Slytherin!Jungkook, SpellInventor!Yoongi, Spells & Enchantments, St. Mungo's, Strategist!Seokjin, Unforgivable Curses (Harry Potter), Unrequited Love, Wands
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2018-12-31 16:19:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12136311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverAndGreen/pseuds/SilverAndGreen
Summary: Not originally planned, I really felt like writing a short prologue for the final part of the series.I plan to start uploading again in December (hopefully in the beginning of the month)! I'm looking forward to it as much as I'm dreading to finishing this story, because I know it'll make me incredibly sad.Thank you to all the people who have already subscribed to this third and final part, it has really warmed my heart <3Love,SG





	1. Prologue

****

###  **Prologue**

****

It was here that the differences between the two worlds seemed so small. Almost non-existent. Everyone was reminded once again that ever soul present was human, no matter these differences. Perhaps it was the now almost nostalgic smell of sweat and rotting disease and occasionally (more than occasionally, but this was a lie to keep himself sane) death that evoked an almost nostalgic mixture of emotions in him these days. It was the past, present, and future. It was bad, but also strangely good. To clarify, it wasn’t the combination of scents that was good, but everything around it that held incredible value, inhaled by the many that lay asleep on their matrasses and even the ones who had, at a lack of time to give them a proper place to stay, found their sleep on the hard, cold floor. With every breath, their lungs filled with hope.

Witches and Muggles and Wizards alike were dying. One for the other. The other for all. And it was good. Every soul departed took them a step closer to their destiny.

But sometimes— on some days, disease just smelled like rotting flesh, and death just smelled like… well, _death._ Today was one of those days. 

It wasn’t so much a _bad day_ , as some of the others liked to call it, as much as it was a day of perfect clarity. The night had haunted him with dreams of terror, and exhaustion pulled on his eyelids as he made his way through the hall, where the floors were littered with strays. There were people without homes, or ones that had abandoned theirs, along with their family in the hope to find a better future. Years ago, these halls had been empty like the many rooms in this building. But they were closing in on something, and more people had started to believe with all their hearts, wanting to be there when it would finally happen. 

_To become one._

A few souls came to life from behind glazy eyes as he passed, and they trailed his footsteps. If they managed to find some good new recruits, these people could soon have a bed to sleep in. But times were tough, magic or no magic. Time was pressing with the Ministry’s renewed alertness. And then there was—

A cry.

It was a cry for help or one charged with pain and anguish. He couldn’t quite tell the difference anymore. Not that it mattered. Both vibrated through his every bone and muscle, clamping their fingers around his heart. 

He stopped and stared at the door on his right. 

**EX Room No. II**

“Harmony,” he whispered to himself. It was a reminder to to keep his faith from stumbling and falling over and shattering into a million pieces. Perhaps the fact that he needed a reminder to begin with was a red flag on it’s own, but he didn’t recognise it as one in any case. 

_Harmony._

As another muffled cry erupted from behind the door, a much weaker one this time, he slowly approached the door and pressed his palm flat against the surface. The dark wood was much colder than he’d expected somehow, and a chill shot up through his arm and into his chest. It wasn’t just the temperature. Every unheard cry rippled restlessly against his fingertips. 

There was a sudden flash as he blinked hard, and it left spots in his peripheral vision, floating down. A print; a frame of a child pressed on his mind. He’d seen the children, of course, but it wasn’t like that. He could hear different kind of cries in the background; ones that weren’t really here. His own voice answered, silently.

_What’s wrong?_

Another answered, between the quiet sobs.

_You won’t leave me here alone, will you?_

_Of course not._

But he pulled his hand away from the door and left, the fragmented shards of his mind staying behind with the weeping souls on the other side.

###### 

He pushed open the door. Three pairs of eyes greeted him.

“Good, you’re here,” said the balding man on his left as he stepped into the briefing room. 

“You look awful,” the blond woman in the corner snorted. 

He ignored both of them as he found his usual spot at the table, eyes locking on the empty slip of parchment that had been laid out for him. As soon as he touched it, dark ink bled into it, revealing the text written that was meant for his eyes only. He read the words as they appeared and his face turned to stone. 

“What’s this?” 

“Change of plans.”

“You don’t need me for this.”

“Oh, but I do.”

“Why?” His eyes met pale blue ones. “You were asked to recruit the boy. You fucked up. Surely I don’t need to remind you, Eva?”

It was the fourth of their party, the man in white, that answered in her stead. “You don’t. Things have changed. The two of them have entered the Ministry.”

“You expect me to infiltrate the Ministry?”

“No. We need you to set a trail.”

“He won’t come.”

“He won’t.”

“So?”

“But the other will.”

_Not you._

The man in white found his gaze. “We need the boy. You’ve seen his work yourself. Imagine the progress we’ll make. This could soon be over. The pain, the death, the division of the people. Or have you forgotten what we’re doing this for?”

There was no answer. There was only sorrow for the brief moment the silence lasted, the source unknown.

“Daewon?”

“No,” Daewon answered. “For harmony.”

The man in white gifted him with a smile that carried no real happiness. They were all tired, as much was clear. The years had dragged by, many had died, few had been saved. 

_Harmony._

“For harmony,” Eva repeated softly, and Falkmer smiled at the floor. 

“That’s right,” the man in white nodded around the room. 

_For Concordia._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not originally planned, I really felt like writing a short prologue for the final part of the series.  
> I plan to start uploading again in December (hopefully in the beginning of the month)! I'm looking forward to it as much as I'm dreading to finishing this story, because I know it'll make me incredibly sad. 
> 
> Thank you to all the people who have already subscribed to this third and final part, it has really warmed my heart <3
> 
> Love,
> 
> SG


	2. Summer of Change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooooo lovelies!
> 
> Wow, it has taken me quite some time to start writing again. November has been extremely hectic. There have been some really big life changes for me, but I'm stoked about the future. I really want to get back to regularly uploading, but I can't really make any promises for now. I'll really do my best to frequently upload, because I actually can't wait to get to the actual main story after the summer part. The summer chapters may drag a little, but I promise they're quite vital to character development and small details. I do hope you enjoy them! The actual main story, I hope, will be quite suspenseful and filled with mystery, agony, and action. 
> 
> Thank you so much for waiting! I'm excited for you all to read it. 
> 
> Love,
> 
> SG <3

## II.V: Summer of Maturity

****

### Chapter 1 – A Summer of Change

****

Three hours and thirty-three minutes. Taehyung had been at it for three hours and thirty-three— four minutes. Drenched in summer sweat, he checked the time again as he greedily gulped down large amounts of water. It did not clench his thirst. His body demanded more. But the sound of the whistle told him there was no time.

“Kim, up!”

“Yes, sir.”

Taehyung flung his leg over his broomstick and sat down on the disgustingly warm and sticky seat. He cringed, feeling the muscles in his legs protest as he kicked off from the grass and back up in the air. He hoped soaring back and forth on his broomstick would provide him with a soothing, cool breeze against his burning skin, but Mother Nature wouldn’t let him have it today. Everything was hot and wet and sticky, his body ached, he was exhausted of the many hours a week they asked him to come in. But he still loved every minute of Q.I.S.T (Quidditch: Intensive Sponsorship Training).

Zed’s mother had really not been joking around. A mere one day after arriving home after the schoolyear had ended, Taehyung had received a letter with an official Ministry wax seal, with little golden wings drawn on each side, which had formed a Snitch. His mother had ripped the envelope open before he had even touched it, screeching at the sight of the Department of Magical Games and Sports seal. She had nearly jumped in the air upon reading out loud that her son was to be expected at Q.I.S.T for six days a week from now on during the entire summer. Taehyung had stared at the letter with huge eyes after he’d finally managed to wrestle himself from his mother’s arms. Six days was an awful lot. More than he’d expected, for sure. That meant he likely wouldn’t be able to see any of his friends much. Then again…

He had thought of Seokjin in the moment, and everything that had taken place the previous year had flashed before his eyes in fast-forward, eyes flicking across the room. He had finally rested them on the letter in his hands once more. It didn’t matter, did it? There was nothing for him there. They had been fine without him, and they would be fine without him. Besides, no one really wanted him there anymore. They didn’t have to say anything for him to know. He saw the look in Jimin’s eyes these days. They all treated him differently. And when things had gotten serious— when Eon Jin had been involved, hexed by that psycho Livraile, _his_ little sister; _his_ family, had they cared to involve or warn him? Had they cared? Had any of them tried to reach out to him this summer to make it right? Unaware of his own trail of thoughts, he had balled his hands into fists, crumpling his Q.I.S.T letter, almost shaking. 

No, they hadn’t.

Taehyung had known the answer, and had known that this was where his destiny would lead him. Into Quidditch. Ironically enough, this was a dream for so many— a deepest desire. Something that so many like him would _really_ have seen down in the Room of Requirement, unlike his lie to cover up what the Room had shown him in reality. And he’d would’ve given anything for the letter in his hands to be one from Jimin instead. But it wasn’t. Jimin hadn’t written or visited him. Jimin had moved on. Q.I.S.T was where he was meant to go.

After his last thirty minutes of training, Taehyung finally made his last landing of the day and collapsed down on the grass. The sun stood high and mighty in the sky, radiating its heat onto his already burning scalp. His coach, a tall and fit, green-eyes man named Eli Gribble, landed next to him. 

“Your improvements are incredible. I think you may be the best candidate Q.I.S.T has seen in many years,” Gribble proudly stated as he reached for his wand and refilled Taehyung’s water bottle. “I’ve told your parents it’s a real shame you still have to go back to Hogwarts. We’ll only be able to train on odd weekends and holidays. But if you’d drop out we could—”

“With all due respect, sir,” Taehyung interrupted, smiling somewhat painfully as he looked at Gribble. “My parents would never let me drop out of Hogwarts.”

Gribble nodded, one corner of his mouth pulling up. “I know, I know. They made that very clear to me. It’s just, well, raw talent like yours shouldn’t go to waste. Academics are fine and all, but not for everyone. There’s more than just Hogwarts. It’s always Hogwarts this, Hogwarts that— hell, my parents weren’t happy when I dropped out, but here I am!”

Taehyung took two large gulps and shielded his eyes from the sun. “Wait, you dropped out?”

“Yep,” Gribble replied, chest proudly forward. “In my fifth year. I’m not saying it’s the best choice for everyone, but _you_ are already a bunch better than I was when I joined Q.I.S.T, and the Holyhead Harpies asked me to train with them within two years. Imagine the places you’d go within one!” 

His muscles finally relaxing a little and his body cooling down, Taehyung mulled over Gribble’s words. Dropping out of Hogwarts wasn’t something he had ever seriously considered, and there was no way his parents would ever let him. But something inside of him longed for it. To get away from everything and find his ultimate freedom in the skies. In the stadium. It called for him. 

“No,” Taehyung finally sighed, much against his own will. “I’m sorry, sir. Although I don’t like to admit it, I’m afraid there’s still something for me at Hogwarts.”

“Well, Q.I.S.T will be waiting for you.” Gribble gave him a friendly pat on the back, and he felt his tee stick wetly against his skin. “And whatever it is you have there, I’m rooting for you, kid.”

###### 

“I’m telling you, it’s a bad defensive stance. Look, if you put up your arm like this, and— no, Jimin, Yoongi said that—”

“Kook, no offense,” Jimin grunted as the younger grabbed hold of his arm and shifted it up. “Yoongi knows a lot about spell invention, but nothing about being an Auror.”

“And you do?” Jungkook retorted, one eyebrow arched. He let go of his friend and stepped back to examine him. A smirk, one that Jimin didn’t trust, appeared on his face. “I wonder if this is right for someone as tiny as you.”

“Okay _enough_ with the tiny jokes. You grow about half a head taller than me within a few weeks and you get all arrogant about it,” Jimin warningly pointed his finger at the younger, whose front teeth revealed themselves in a cheeky smile. “I’ll be allowed to do magic outside of school before you do, so I won’t hesitate to hex you.”

“What did you say?” Jungkook snorted, taking a few careful steps back. “Speak louder, Jimin. I can’t hear you from up here!” 

“HEY!”

Jimin chased after the younger in his garden, their laughter echoing through the neighbourhood. The afternoon sun was still as hot as it had been since it had risen this morning. But the heat didn’t bother the two, as they had mostly spent their free summer day in the cool shade of the large apple tree that grew in the back. While Jimin read his new book, _A Hundred Absurd Achievements by Amazing Aurors_ , Jungkook had entertained himself with picking the remainder of apples that still hung between the leaves and lunging them at some gnomes. It was a lazy day. The weather called for that.

It was after a good ten minutes Jimin finally managed to tackle Jungkook, and the two fell down cry-laughing. The (now) shorter of the two repeatedly planted his fists onto his friend’s arms. 

“Boys?” His mother called out from in the house. “Care to run an errand with me?”

Jimin dropped his guard for a split second as he turned his head to the house, and ended up under Jungkook, who started tickling him. “N-No! Stop— Stop it!”

“Boys?”

“Y-Yes! Kook, S-STOP!”

The two ended their battle and went inside, Jungkook playfully pushing Jimin back as he tried to cut in front of him. 

“Where we going?” Jimin asked his mother, attempting to kick Jungkook away from him.

She was busy stuffing vegetables into a bag. “Actually it’s not so much an errand as it’s dinner.” She cast a knowing glance into the boys’ direction. “At Taehyung’s house.” 

The play fighting stopped in an instant, the two boys frozen in their spots. Jimin felt his heart sink into his stomach. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Well,” she sighed. “Today is a good a time as any, as Kook will be off in two days for the rest of the summer.” She paused, a yellow paprika in her hand, and stared at her son. He could see she was worried. But there was something else, too. Was it anger? “Since your release from St Mungo’s all you boys have been so distant witch each other. Seokjin, I understand. But you— Taehyung and you shouldn’t let what happened affect your friendship. We are all angry and scared— your father and I are terrified, still. But we should all try to move on from this.”

Jimin bit on his lip, swallowing down words he wanted to shout at her. _’YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND! YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND ANY OF IT! I DON’T EVEN UNDERSTAND!’_ He glanced at Jungkook, who awkwardly slid his foot in circles on the floor, eyes down. “It’s not that simple,” Jimin finally answered. “It isn’t just that… it’s…”

“Is it Q.I.S.T?”

“No.”

“Well then I’m sure Taehyung would love it if you attended—”

“No, he _wouldn’t!_ ” Jimin cried out. “He doesn’t want to see us! He… he doesn’t want to see _me_.” He shook his head, his chest tightening. “I don’t think he likes me anymore.”

“Oh sweetheart,” his mother dropped the paprika in her bag and embraced him. “That’s not true. You two have been inseparable since you were born.” She released him, and Jimin blamed himself from letting a few tears escape his eyes. “We’ll go, have a lovely dinner, and everything will be like it used to. You’ll see.”

“Okay,” he softly said, not because he believed her, but because he wanted everything to be okay. He wanted it more than anything in the whole wide world.

-

The Kim’s residence smelled like home to Jimin, even though he hadn’t been there in nearly an entire year. For Jungkook it was only the second time ever being in Taehyung’s house, so as they were let in by Mrs Kim and slipped out of their shoes, he examined the wall of photos with great fascination. Jimin hadn’t had much attention for the great collection of family photos that decorated their hallway, as someone who had grown used to their presence, his vision now almost blind to them. But at Jungkook nudged him with a wide grin and pointed at one of them, it is when Jimin suddenly began to _see_ them again.

It was a photo of himself. He couldn’t have been much older than two, as his little legs nearly trembled as he seemed to be running towards something at the other end of the frame. He was laughing, a few of his little teeth visible. Then another, blonde, child stumbled into the frame, waving his arms around at little Jimin, a similar goofy smile on his face.

Jimin felt his stomach jolt strangely, but had no time to give his feelings time to speak as Jungkook snorted and mumbled, “haven’t grown much, have you?”, and he was obliged to punish his friend with a pinch instead.

The Kim family had never been one to spare any expense when it came to welcoming their guests. Jimin, of course, had seen this over the years with others, but he himself had always been more than just a guest. It was because of this he was somewhat surprised to find the dining table extended, fully set, and royally decorated with a bright orange table runner and complimenting soft yellow plates and bowls. There were summery blue candles lit around the room, filling the room with the smell of what Muggles would perhaps call something like ‘Sea Breeze’, but sweeter. 

“Ah welcome!” Mr Kim said as he got up from his chair near the open window. From it, Jimin could see the garden. Taehyung was nowhere to be seen. “Please have a seat. I was just about to start cooking. Did you bring— ah yes, thank you.” He took the bag of ingredients and gestured for them to sit down. He took off into the kitchen.

Jungkook easily found a place at the table, but Jimin could feel himself hesitate. There was something so off about all of this. Unnatural; forced. This didn’t feel like the home he had known for so long. Everything pretty much looked the same, but this was just Taehyung’s house now, not a place they shared. It almost felt like he was trespassing somehow. Regardless, he took a seat next to Jungkook, shifting a little uncomfortably to the left and right. They were left alone when his mother joined Mrs Kim in fetching some wine for the both of them, and everything fell silent. But inside of Jimin’s head, it was pure chaos. The voices grew louder within the sudden stillness, pounding on the walls of his mind and yelling at him that everything was just… _wrong_.

“I wonder when Tae will be here.”

“Huh?”

Shaking his head slowly, Jungkook raised his eyebrows. “Taehyung will be back from Q.I.S.T any moment now, won’t he?”

“Ah. I suppose he will,” Jimin answered distantly, staring at the door, expecting Taehyung to come bursting through it and raising hell and telling him to get the hell out of his house. 

“Oh come _on_ ,” the younger nudged him with his elbow. “It won’t be that bad. This is _Taehyung_ we’re talking about. Fun, outgoing, silly Taehyung. The Tae who dragged you out of bed because he thought he’d seen a dragon outside, and the Tae who thought it would be a good idea to go skinny dipping in the lake in the middle of winter, until he made the jump and discovered it was frozen solid.”

The memories sparking inside his mind, Jimin felt the corners of his mouth pull up. “Idiot,” he mumbled, Taehyung’s cheeky smile imprinted on his mind, his eyes sparkling with mischief in the way they did. And for a moment, a split second of fate, Jimin felt his stomach jolt in the strangest way. The smell of Taehyung was all around him; his presence suddenly so clear. _Was this a sense of nostalgia?_ He lowered his head and half listened to Jungkook’s story about the time Taehyung had accidentally set fire to Yoongi’s robes. Inseparable since birth, his mother had said. But not anymore. They had torn away from each other now, and it was as if Jimin only started to realise it in this moment. A sense of fear and sadness and anger washed over him. And then… that jolt in his stomach again. _No. It was something else. More than just nostalgia. It was—_

“Jimin?”

“What?”

The tone of Jungkook’s voice made Jimin snap out of his thoughts, and he looked up to find another pair of eyes staring at him from in the living room entrance. A knot tied in his chest, heart pounding within it, hard, screaming to break free from whatever this feeling was. A prisoner of… of _something_ as Taehyung stood frozen in his spot, face nearly without expression, broom swung over his shoulder. 

“What are you doing here?” was the first thing that he said, and Jimin could feel the knot inside him tighten painfully. 

“Dinner,” he replied and lowered his eyes away from Taehyung’s face as he suddenly felt his face flush. _Why was this so weird? Why was even just looking at him weird?_ “Our moms.”

“Right,” Taehyung curtly said, putting his broomstick down against the wall. He stood there for a moment, wordless, and Jimin only dared to make eye contact again after a quiet, awkward minute. But it was meeting Taehyung’s gaze that he really realised something inside him was changing. Or _had_ changed. He wasn’t quite sure. It made his skin tingle, fingertips sweat, toes curl. He suddenly saw him, Taehyung, for who he was. A person— a human of his own with feelings and dreams and hopes and fears. They were no longer two parts of a whole; the way Jimin had always felt about his former best friend. They no longer acted as one. And Jimin saw an entire new world in Taehyung’s eyes. One he was sure he hadn’t seen before. And he wanted to explore it, know it; be drawn into it— But Taehyung tore away and disappeared into his room without another word. 

-

Dinner that night offered many opportunities to start plenty of casual conversation, but Jimin simply couldn’t do it. Jungkook, however, chatted away beside him to the adults. About their aspirations to become Aurors, about the books they had read (well, Jimin had read and summarised for him), the weekend trip they had made to Ireland together, and his upcoming holiday to Canada with his own family. Jimin felt slightly jealous at Jungkook’s ability to happily talk over all the awkwardness and tension around them, but then again, perhaps he was the only one feeling it. The evening passed, and Jimin hadn’t once made eye contact with Taehyung since he had come back from Q.I.S.T. But it was when he heard Taehyung speak, and he finally did for the briefest of moments, that he suddenly _knew_.

“They’ll have coach Gribble come into the floo network in some weekends to pick me up.” Taehyung cast a brief glance in Jimin’s direction. “It isn’t usual, but Q.I.S.T has a system in place that will allow me to leave the castle from time to time.”

Yes. Jimin knew it now. He knew everything was painfully different. With Taehyung. Between the two of them. But most of all, within himself. And facing that suddenly made the fact that he was losing Taehyung so much harder. And it made life a little less bearable.

###### 

In the blackest of rooms that Jungkook had even set foot in, it was a surprise he wasn’t boiling alive inside of it. Well actually, he nearly was. He had opened the window, but the outside offered him not so much as a gentle summer breeze to relief his agony in this square pit of despair that was Yoongi’s bedroom. Not only was nearly all the furniture he owned black (except for a Slytherin House banner taped – yes, taped – to his wall, and single pillow on his bed which, Jungkook was pretty sure, was more of a dark greenish colour), but so were two of his walls. The other two were white, but it helped nothing to expel the heat. Jungkook considered him lucky that it was nearly six in the afternoon, and the hottest hours of the day had already passed. But he still considered himself pretty damn unlucky to have spent the last forty or so minutes here, waiting. Naturally, he had already examined most of Yoongi’s things, had opened all of his drawers, and had taken a peek under the bed (where he’d found nothing but Muggle music magazines and a pair of broken headphones). But the only interesting thing in here had been Yoongi’s Muggle laptop, which he had no clue how to operate in the first place. After all, it was password locked (Jungkook had tried ‘fuckoff’ and ‘thisroomreflectsmysoul’ but to no avail). 

The door handle clicked, and Jungkook’s waiting finally came to an end. He jumped up from the bed with a huge smile, throwing his arms up in the air as Yoongi entered his bedroom. 

“SURPRISE!” he yelled.

“WHAT—” Yoongi started and stumbled on his feet, tripping backwards, eyes double their usual size. He only barely prevented himself from falling. “WHAT THE HELL’S WRONG WITH YOU?!”

“It’s a surprise!” Jungkook laughed as Yoongi entered the room, dumped his work bag on the floor, and yelped as he stubbed his toe on his desk. “Your parents let me in. I wrote them two weeks ago to ask if I could come.”

“Remind me to kill them later,” the elder grunted. He sat down in his desk chair and started rubbing over his aching toe. “You really shouldn’t have.”

“It was no trouble.”

“No. You _really_ shouldn’t have. I hate surprises.”

“I’m sure you hate everything.”

“True.”

Yoongi was in his work clothes. The day prior before starting his new job at the Ministry, he had written Jungkook about his frustration that there was a mandatory dress code for his department ( _’Am I still in school or something?’_ ). There were special approved robe choices for every season ( _’Great. Now I have to choose, too?’_ ), and the only good thing Yoongi had found about that was that he could have his own pick of colour for the summer, which, of course, had been black ( _’It’s the colour of every season.’_ ). Jungkook wondered if he had regretted his choice, since he seemed to be sweating heavily. 

“So,” Yoongi frowned at him, lowering his foot back down once he was done rubbing it, “what _are_ you actually doing here? I mean it’s nice to see you, but you could’ve just written or called.”

Jungkook sat back down on Yoongi’s bed, shifting to the side to find a cooler spot. “Well since I’m leaving to Canada for the rest of the summer with my family, and you and Seokjin are planning to move into the new house soon, I thought I’d just drop by. I’ve never seen your parents’ house or your room.” He let his eyes flick around the room. “It’s, uh, very happy.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Yoongi rolled his eyes. “When Jin came by last week he wouldn’t stop complaining about how he wouldn’t allow an all-black living room. But hear this,” he wagged his finger at nothing in particular, “he wants _pink_. There is no way in hell I’m going to be living in a pink house with him!”

“You two seem close these days,” the younger smiled. “Is he…” he stopped, hesitant.

Yoongi just hummed in response, knowing what the question on Jungkook’s lips was. For a moment, he observed the life outside his window, in- and exhaling deeply. “He has ups and downs. Some days I do think he’s doing better— the days where he’s most like his annoying old self, but…” he shook his head slowly. “That’s just it. He hasn’t _really_ been like himself. Not since finding out about his old man. I mean how do you recover from something like that in the first place?”

“I don’t know,” Jungkook admitted. Trying to imagine having to grief over the death of his own father was already difficult enough. But then having to find out he was still alive. And right there in front of him, too, as the enemy? The mere thought of it made his skin crawl, as it had on many occasions this summer. “Do you see each other a lot at work?”

“Sometimes,” Yoongi said. “It’s mostly because he visits me during breaks, but other than that not so much.”

“Do you ever see the Aurors?” Jungkook lilted, unable to hide his excitement. 

“Not much.”

“Oh.”

“You should really talk to Jin about Aurors. He attends every briefing these days.”

“I…” Jungkook paused and swallowed. “I want to write him. I really do.” And it was the truth. He really did want to write Seokjin— he had wanted to all summer. But what would he write? Would he ask about the Auror department? Work? How he was doing? His father? It just didn’t feel right somehow. “I want to do something for him this year. For all of us,” he then said. “If I’m going to be an Auror there’s surely something I can figure out. I _know_ I have the brain for it—”

“It’s not just about brains, Kook,” Yoongi interrupted. He squinted his eyes at him. “It’s about practice and training and skill. These Aurors have been in the field for years, and have shadowed other Aurors in the field before that. Your time will come, but you need to back off this year.” Their eyes met, and Yoongi’s gaze pierced through him, his eyebrows low. “You need to promise me.”

“I can’t do that!” Jungkook exclaimed. “I can’t just sit around and do nothing.”

“You can, and you will.”

“No, I won’t.”

“I swear I will hex you right here and right now.”

“Do it!”

“You’re such a fucking brat,” Yoongi groaned and jumped up from his chair. He threateningly loomed over Jungkook. “If I catch you trying to find Concordia in any sort of way, I will exclude you from any spell inventing I’ll do in the future. And that includes if you make it into the Auror department.”

Jungkook bit down on his tongue and mulled over his potential response. Spell inventing was great. And working with Yoongi was great. But there was more to life than that. This was something real; he could do something real for his friend. Make a difference. He knew he had it in him, he just _knew_ it. Exhaling deeply, he got up from the bed, and Yoongi’s eyes widened, eyebrows raised as he suddenly observed the younger from top to bottom. Jungkook gazed down at Yoongi, who was now half a head shorter than himself. “If that’s how it is, that’s how it will be.”

“What—” Yoongi stammered. “When the hell did you grow so much?!” he cried out, taking a step back. His face contorted and he squeezed his eyes half shut, looking almost affronted. 

Since he had grown, Jungkook had imagined seeing Yoongi’s response for the first time, and it would be a lie to say he didn’t enjoy every second of the clear disgust on his face. He smirked. “You better get with the times, Yoongi. ‘Cause they’re changing fast.”


	3. Summer of Direction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year! <3

###  **Chapter 2 – Summer of Direction**

This was getting out of hand. Everything was getting out of hand. The stacks of fresh parchment were diminishing on his desk, and the floor was a battlefield, littered with the inky corpses of his failed ideas. Yoongi was fairly sure that anyone who would rummage through the many, many notes that had died right here in this cubicle prison, would definitely find his slowly decaying hopes and dreams amongst them. 

_**Min – Junior Spell Scientist** _

That is what the fancy golden plaque on his desk read, but it may as well have read ‘ _ **Min – Slave to the System**_ ’ as far as he was concerned. This was Yoongi’s fourth week as a full-time employee of the Ministry of Magic, Department of Magical Innovation. It was a calm place full of ambitious albeit rather socially awkward people – a place to feel at home, if anything – yet his achievements of the past month had not outweighed his mishaps and errors. He had managed to fail his first deadline (a minor transfiguration spell, which, in his defence, wasn’t his specialty to begin with), and had _somehow_ (don’t ask him how, because he’d be too stubborn to admit he knew exactly how) managed to set his own robes on fire on day six, which had resulted in the Head Spell Scientist deciding the workload was likely a little too heavy for someone who was so fresh out of Hogwarts, even if he had been recommended by the Kim family, and had put Yoongi on Office Spells for the time being. And you could take Yoongi’s word for that Office Spells had to be the most boring and miserable type of spells anyone could be working on. 

“Blotch,” he mumbled to himself while frantically rubbing his fist over the fresh ink on the parchment laid out in front of him. “Another. Fucking. Blotch. A hundred. And. Three. More. Damned… Blotches!” He finished abusing his supplies and grunted, “atramento restituet”, with his wand poking onto the surface. Immediately, the smudged black ink began to draw back and, within a few seconds, had fully restored itself to the text that Yoongi had scrawled ( _please end my suffering_ ). 

“Great.” He huffed while pointing his wand backwards over his shoulder. On the board behind him the number changed from 97 to 98. “A hundred and two more,” he whispered while starting the process of rubbing at the ink once more. “A hundred and two more fucking blotches.” 

Just as he raised his wand again, two short knocks on his door interrupted the process, and he was torn between crying out in gratitude to his incoming saviour and feeling the strong urge to strangle whoever was about to come in.

“Yes?” He called out, but much unneeded as the door had already flung open and Seokjin entered.

“Listen.” The elder wasted absolutely no time as he shut the door behind him. Yoongi could see he hadn’t taken the time to shave this morning – yet again – nor had he cared an awful lot for styling his hair. 

As he had mentioned to Jungkook, Seokjin had ups and downs, which manifested itself in the way he took care of his appearance. Seokjin was a proud and vain man under normal circumstances. Yoongi had discovered that, when he was in the right mood, he spent hours grooming himself, hogging their only bathroom. It hadn’t taken longer than a mere two weeks of sharing an apartment with him for them to have already fought over it five times. But Yoongi had found himself in exceptionally forgiving moods, knowing that days like those were actually Seokjin’s best days. 

“Listen—” Seokjin repeated, tapping his hand down on the desk, “are you listening?” 

“Morning,” Yoongi arched an eyebrow, exhaling deeply as he put his wand down in an attempt to relieve some of his tension. He suddenly felt how stiff his back was from sitting in the same position all this time.

“You’re joking?” his friend replied. “It’s three in the afternoon.” 

“Fuck! Are you se— I missed lunch!”

“Figured. Brought you some.” 

Seokjin reached inside his robes and pulled out a neatly foil-wrapped package containing three wraps. He threw it on the desk, and Yoongi instantly ripped the foil away, groaning gratefully as he took two large bites. “Sw gwwd,” he mumbled with his mouth full, sinking back into his chair.

“Yeah so,” Seokjin ignored the compliment and paced around the room, kicking a wave of parchment notes around in the process, “Emerald just filed their weekly status report. I just read through it— scanned it for potential information. Sometimes you have to read between the lines. They don’t always specify exactly what they mean, which is absolute bullshit. Sometimes there’s— well… semantics, semantics, you know? You’d think that Aurors were more capable of using their words. Then again, perhaps it makes total sense that they wouldn’t be. And I’m not entirely sure if what I interpreted from what they reported is correct, but if there’s a chance… there’s a chance…” 

Yoongi watched his friend restlessly circle around the office, mumbling and whispering incoherently to himself for a while. Sometimes mere grunts replaced where words should have been, and Yoongi lost track of the conversation completely – not that he’d ever fully had a grip on what Seokjin had tried to say in the first place.

Then, Seokjin turned to him and flung his arms up in the air. “This place is a mess. How could you possibly expect me to think in here?”

Yoongi grimaced. “I don’t,” he retorted, but his words did very little to wipe the disapproval off his friend’s face. “Fine,” he sighed and flicked his wand from left to right. “Ignis emundation.” As he laid his wand to rest again, all the parchment that littered his office floor went up in flames. They were little fires that almost immediately died out, but Seokjin recoiled.

“Was that necessary?!” he cried out as he dramatically kicked some of the remaining ashes around before they vaporised into thin air, leaving the floor empty. “You and your fire. I swear you’ll get us killed someday.”

Yoongi snorted, kicking back in his chair, feet up on his desk. “Just trying to make a difference in this miserable world.” He took another big bite out of his last wrap, brow furrowing as he watched Seokjin continue his pacing. “So?”

“So…” the elder repeated without answering. 

Yoongi finished his food and tossed the foil on the floor next to him, knowing that it would annoy Seokjin to no end if he saw. But he didn’t. He was far too busy picking his own brain, and, although hearing Seokjin talk to himself was not rare these days, it was starting to make Yoongi grow impatient. 

“So?” he repeated more sternly this time. “ _What did you read?_ ”

Seokjin stopped in his tracks, head tilted to the side as he became quiet. Then, he very slowly said, “I think I may have a lead to Livraile.” 

Immediately, Yoongi jumped up from his seat, eyes widening. “You serious?”

“Yes,” Seokjin replied. “I’m not entirely sure. I wasn’t able to read all of the information, but… I think it’s a lead.”

Heart suddenly pounding much faster, Yoongi started to pace around his office as Seokjin had done moments before. _Livraile_ — that cursed woman. She made his blood boil; he could feel his hatred for her in his veins and muscles and bones. Every inch of him ached with a longing for revenge. He lusted after it these days. She haunted him in his dreams. The dark and long and fruitless chase in the Forbidden Forest had left him restless during the nights, agitated during the days. Memories of her devious cackle echoed in his mind, along with the harrowing and infuriating knowledge that she had had full control over him. Not once, but _twice_. She had possessed him without his consent, and she possessed him still in a way. The thought of taking her down sent a longing chill down his spine. It excited him.

“How sure can you be?”

“Don’t know yet. Have to be careful.”

“Sure, sure. Is it enough to inform the others?”

“I think so.”

“Today?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s go, then!”

“Yoongi?”

Yoongi was already halfway to the door when Seokjin called for him. He found his friend gazing at him, eyebrows raised. “Don’t you need to finish your work?”

With his still heavily pounding heart dropping into his stomach, Yoongi stared at the 98 on his board. Testing assignments like these required him to perform the same damn spell at least two hundred times for official Ministry approval. And testing days like these were the absolute worst. But Seokjin was right. He could afford no further errors if he ever wanted to make it in this place. He groaned loudly and sank back into his chair. 

Seokjin smiled apologetically at him while he pulled open the door. “See you at home.”

“Yeah,” Yoongi sighed while examining the side of his hand, which had completely blackened with ink from all the parchment rubbing. 

“Oh and,” Seokjin snorted upon seeing the damage, “you know there’s a spell for blotching and wiping, too, right? It’s _extermigus_. Might save you some time.”

As his friend left the office, Yoongi planted his forehead on the surface of his desk, letting his arms hang down in total defeat. Only a hundred and three more blotches to go for today. And then there would be two hundred teared pieces of parchment tomorrow. Perhaps two hundred line fixes or measurement corrections after that. There would be a lot of two hundred-s before moving onto bigger things. So far for making a difference.

###### 

Far too focused on checking the time every other minute, Seokjin couldn’t even get himself to care an awful lot about dinner tonight. He flitted his wand and the oven flung open, letting its radiant heat and the smell of rosemary chicken and sweet potato escape. There was a lot needed to make him not care about his food, but this potential lead had done it. Over the course of the day it had driven him crazy. He’d been mulling it over time and time again, hoping to find the answers hidden away in his own brain. 

_This could lead somewhere. But where?_

“Chicken, chicken…” Seokjin mumbled while eyeing the dish and closing the oven back up with another flick of his wand. He impatiently tapped his fingers on the counter and checked the clock again. “Who cares about chicken,” he whispered, noticing it was eighteen past six— a good two minutes later than when he had previously checked. “Maybe,” he tapped his wand on the little glass jar of his special seasoning and levitated it into place, “maybe we’re _all_ just chickens. Maybe _I’m—_ ”

“Who the hell are you talking to?”

Seokjin jumped and swung his arm sideways, wand pointing directly at Yoongi, who was in the doorway in his regular clothes, jeans and a black hoodie, casually leaning against the post, a bag of crisps in his hand. His eyebrows raised slowly, but he seemed completely unfazed.

“Wanna point that somewhere else? Whatever you may believe, I am _not_ a chicken,” he said, then continued eating his snack.

“Yoongi,” Seokjin lowered his wand and let himself fall into the nearest chair at the dining table. As the younger joined him, he could feel his heartrate increase. It wasn’t due to the scare, but something else entirely. These days it felt like his heart wasn’t able to beat normally at all anymore. The little things made him flinch; he expected ambushes around every corner and found himself mistrusting even the littlest things that people said. Life was going at full-speed, and he couldn’t quite keep up. “I may slowly be going insane.” 

“You’re way past the point of insane,” Yoongi joked.

But Seokjin couldn’t even muster to fake a smile for his friend’s sake. All the elder could do was stare at his own hands on his knees; the shape of his fingers and the knowledge that in a dream, people could often not properly count them. Strangely enough, counting his fingers kept him grounded in moments he could keep himself floating out of his own mind. “Sorry,” he began. “I’m sorry that I’m—”

“No, Jin, we’ve talked about this,” Yoongi interrupted him sternly, even putting down his food to show he meant it. “None of that, remember?”

Slowly, Seokjin nodded, thinking back to the conversations he had had with Yoongi, Namjoon, and Hoseok over the course of summer. _’No apologies for how you feel’_ , they had all told him time and time again. _’We’ll get through this. Together’_. And they had meant it. 

When Namjoon had first suggested Seokjin would find a place to live with one of them to move out of his mother’s house, he had truly hated the idea. Yes, he wanted to get away from his mother, but he much preferred the idea of getting a place of his own. But the fact was that they were all just starting out, and renting a place wasn’t cheap. They’d all considered the options, and after Yoongi voicing that he wanted to move out of his parents’ place as soon as possible, Seokjin had come to the conclusion that Yoongi and he would likely make pretty good roommates. Yoongi was generally quiet, kept to himself, didn’t feel the need to talk much, and made great company if he’d ever need someone around to insult him. So they got a place together.

And everything had been good. Most of their fights were purely domestic and, to be frank, Seokjin was nothing but grateful for those. They made him feel normal in a sense. The ceaseless battle of black versus pink décor and being able to scold Yoongi for littering the common areas gave him something to come home to. Something besides the screaming, paranoid voices in his head. Something real. 

Seokjin took a deep breath and, after counting his fingers three times, finally looked up at his friend, squinting his eyes. “Would you stop eating? Who am I cooking dinner for, you ungrateful pig?!” 

“Dunno,” Yoongi’s mouth pulled up into a smirk, “the chickens?”

“You’re hilarious,” the elder countered, eyes flicking up at the clock again as, right at that moment, the bell rang. He got up and shook his head in disapproval. “About time,” he mumbled as he headed for the hallway. 

As the summer evening’s warmth flooded in as the door opened, Namjoon was revealed on the front porch, scratching the back of his head and greeting Seokjin with an apologetic smile. 

“Heeeey,” he threw up a peace sign. “Sorry I’m late. I was—”

“Yeah, yeah, save it. It’s fine.” Seokjin let him in, checking the streets left and right before closing the door, a rush of adrenaline shooting through his veins. “Where’s Hobi?” The small tremor in his voice gave more away than he wanted. 

“Swamped in work,” Namjoon replied as they entered the living room. “Oooooh,” he then moaned happily, sniffing the air, “that smells so good.”

“What do you mean?” Seokjin ignored him, fiddling his thumbs as his friend took a seat on the couch. “Isn’t he coming?”

“Probably not. He told me he’d leave you a message on your Insta-Owl,” Namjoon shrugged. “It’s just dinner anyway. There’ll be some other time— oh, hey Yoongi.”

As Yoongi joined them in the living room, Seokjin immediately went for the large owl-shaped machine they had hanging on the wall. “Did this ring?!” he snapped at Yoongi, whose brow furrowed as he clearly took offense. 

“Yes— well, _no_ , actually. It fucking _hoots_. Scared the living shit out of me, plus I don’t know how to operate it. I _told_ you a phone would be—”

“Sshh!” Seokjin raised a single finger in his direction to shut him up while tapping his wand on the Insta-Owl, which then opened its beak. After a few seconds it spoke. In Hoseok’s voice.

_”Hey guys. I’m sorry, I won’t be able to make it tonight for dinner. Tai has me examining these patients that have symptoms that point into the direction of Black Cat Flu, which hasn’t broken out since 1996 if I’m correct, so it could be pretty bad. I know you said tonight was kind of important before the new schoolyear started for Namjoon, Jin, but I need to stay here. Tai keeps hinting towards something bigger and better waiting for me if I play my cards right and I have to see what that’s all about. I hope we can see each other soon. Also, Yoongi, if this is you on the Insta-Owl, consider me impressed. Peace!”_

“No, no, no!” Seokjin pounded his fist on the machine in frustration, which protested with a loud “ _HOOT HOOT!_ ”. Behind him, he could hear Namjoon hum uncomfortably.

“Hey,” Yoongi said calmly, “we can fill him in later, can’t we?”

“This is important,” the elder answered, his breathing intensifying. 

“Hobi’s job is also important to him, and we need to respect that.”

“But this could potentially lead us to her— to _him_.”

“Wait, what are we talking about?” Namjoon stared from one of his friends to the other. “Isn’t this just dinner?” 

“Dinner with a twist,” Yoongi said and pulled Seokjin away from the Insta-Owl and onto the couch, which Seokjin only barely complied to as he felt himself starting to shake. “Jin, it’s fine. It’s _fine_ , we’ll fill him in later. But we’re here, so can you please tell us what you’ve got?” He stared at his friend, leg bouncing up and down. “I’ve been waiting all afternoon.”

“Right.” Seokjin took a deep breath. Yoongi was right. It was fine. Things hadn’t gone as planned, but it was fine. At least, he had to actively try to convince himself of that, or he’d lose his grip of whatever little control he had left over his life. He exhaled deeply, feeling both Namjoon’s and Yoongi’s eyes burn into him. He counted his fingers once. “Right,” he repeated. “I may have a lead to Livraile.” He thought about what he’d read this afternoon, then nodded. “Yes, I’m pretty sure.”

“Really?” Namjoon leaned in closer, elbows resting on his legs and fingers folded into each other. Seokjin met his gaze and could see he meant business. “What is it?”

“Emerald was out in the field— Yami’s team,” Seokjin added when he read the confusion on his friend’s face. “They reported having interviewed this café owner in a Scottish place called Kelso who sent in a tip after someone around town went missing. It was about a blonde woman wandering around town. She seemed suspicious to him.”

“So our lead,” Yoongi slowly said, “is a report of a blonde woman wandering around some Scottish place? That isn’t much to go on.”

“Let me finish,” Seokjin added. “The guy also said that, quote, she had the strangest piercing blue eyes he had ever seen.”

“Okay, that _does_ sound like Livraile,” Namjoon bit on his bottom lip while thinking it over for a moment. “But what would she be doing there?”

“Recruiting?” Yoongi instantly replied. “Someone _did_ go missing up there.”

Seokjin nodded. “My thought exactly.”

“Are any of the Aurors on it?”

The elder shook his head. “They haven’t started trailing her just yet. If we want to get her before them, we have to act fast.”

“Wait,” Namjoon held his hand up, closing his eyes while he processed the information. “We’re talking about outsmarting the Auror department here. This isn’t just someone you do. Plus,” his brow furrowed, “I thought you weren’t qualified to read this type of information. Don’t they blank it out?”

“They do,” Seokjin confirmed, heart racing again. “There was an entire section blanked out after the information I read, probably about their suspicions on how it could be Livraile and where she could be headed next. The name of the café and its owner were also blanked out, as well as the person who went missing. But they must’ve either forgotten about the town name or not cared about it much. It wouldn’t matter much anyway if they think she’s moved on already, would it?”

“So how do _we_ find her if that town is entirely irrelevant, then?” Namjoon rubbed his temples. “I don’t see how this is an actual lead.”

This was the one question Seokjin hadn’t been able to answer for himself. He knew this was a lead. He just _knew_. Somehow the town of Kelso was calling out to him, begging him to come and find Livraile. Only she could lead him to Concordia and, with that, to his father. His father was presumed dead, so trying to find any trace of him had been completely useless when he had tried after leaving his job at Hogwarts. His entire existence ended with his reported death of years ago. The only thing they had was Livraile, and this supposed lead was the best thing they’d gotten in months. It _had_ to be _something_. 

“I think we can turn it into something,” Yoongi then said, surprising Seokjin himself who, shamefully, was having troubles with sticking to his own belief that this could actually pan out. “We find out who went missing and when. Then, we talk to the café owner. I mean, both Jin and I are official Ministry employees. I doubt that guy will know the difference between Jin’s Strategist’s badge and an Auror’s, right?” 

“ _Right_ ,” Namjoon answered, snorting sarcastically. “Except that could get you both fired and, if I’m not mistaken, us all arrested as well.”

Seokjin could feel another surge of adrenaline inside of him; a good kind this time. Why hadn’t he thought of that before? Finding the café owner could be the perfect way to at least gain some more information on what Livraile had been doing out there. And maybe, just maybe the person who went missing was somehow related to his father.

No one spoke for a brief moment. Then, Yoongi shrugged. “It’s not like I like my job that much anyway. Or my freedom.”

Breathing heavily now, Seokjin glanced sideways at him. “So we go?”

Yoongi nodded, grinning. “We go.”

Left with not much of a choice, Namjoon groaned loudly and slapped his cheeks. “What’s our first step?”

Instantly, Seokjin jumped up, suddenly feeling his newfound excitement coming accompanied by the hunger he had suppressed with anxiety all afternoon long. “Dinner.”


	4. Summer of Doubts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys,
> 
> I'm so out of it. My life is still incredibly hectic, so unfortunately writing is a little low on my list of priorities right now.  
> I'm not sure anyone still wants to read, but I'm here to deliver (slowly but surely). I do admit this isn't my best work, and it hasn't really been edited very well, but I still wanted to upload something to keep the story moving.
> 
> <3

###  **Chapter 3 - Summer of Doubts**

_Dear Taehyung,_

_How are you?_  
_I hope you are doing well._  
_Jungkook told me about Q.I.S.T and how well things seem to be going for you. I just wanted to let you know that we’re all really happy for you, regardless of how we’ve seem to have grown apart a little. Sometimes that’s just how things go, I suppose._

_I often try so hard to keep things within my control, but I realise now that just isn’t how life works. There are some things we need to let go… even our dearest of friends. We want to see you succeed and be happy; please know that. Everyone is rooting for you. I am rooting for you._

_Hope to talk to you back at Hogwarts sometime soon,_  
_Namjoon._

_P.S. I am sorry for not writing you any sooner. I should have. Somehow I find this very difficult, and I don’t want to bother you. I know you’re busy. Please do not feel obliged to answer. Just know I am thinking of you._

Namjoon read this letter twice, envelope ready for use in his left hand, quill still in his right. This was too shallow. Far too shallow, yet somehow also strangely far too burdening. Perhaps it was the weight of his guilt and pain that had bled into the parchment with the ink; you could read it between the lines. If he wanted to come off casually, perhaps it was best to take out that last part… But not apologising for not writing all summer seemed wrong, too. He had, after all, written the truth that was on his heart. The thought of writing Taehyung after he had isolated himself from the group _had_ been difficult. The other half to that truth was that he simply hadn’t known what to write him about. 

The last time Namjoon had really spoken to Taehyung was when Jimin at been at St. Mungo’s, recovering from his wounds. The Gryffindor had sat beside his bed faithfully, wordless, and had disappeared as soon as Jimin had officially been declared healed. The only exchange of words they had had were short check-ins and rounds of coffee and tea. And, in all honesty, Namjoon wasn’t even sure they could lay the blame for the lack of communication on Taehyung. Everyone had been in shock, and he could only remember parts of the week following what had happened in the Forbidden Forest. There had been St. Mungo’s, visits from several different Aurors, papers to sign, even an official visit of the Minister of Magic, who had come to visit Jimin together with the Headmaster. Not as a mere formality, of course, but to ensure no one on the outside were to find out about anything regarding Concordia. Would it come out to the public that five Hogwarts students and two Apprentices had been attacked by a criminal organisation after they had infiltrated Hogwarts for an entire year and had cast the Imperius curse on several students, well— it would’ve caused a national mayhem. 

In hindsight, Namjoon wasn’t sure he completely agreed with the way the Ministry had handled things. But in the moment everything had been such a blur that it was handled before he had had the time to object. Terri had had some role in the cover-up somehow, he knew. She had defended both him and Jin against the Ministry’s accusations of putting the school’s students in danger, which Namjoon actually considered nothing but fair, and he had been allowed to keep his job. 

But now there was this ceaseless, screaming guilt inside of him. It was slowly driving him insane. The knowledge that _he_ had let it all happen. _He_ had been responsible, and he hadn’t been able to protect anyone. _Again._ Their visit to the Room of Requirement had been different, but hadn’t he also deliberately put his friends in danger? Had he not initially even led the way? Was he to be trusted? One day, one of his friends could end up hurt or missing or dead, and it would be _his_ fault for letting it happen. And with what was happening with Taehyung, Namjoon felt, not for the first time, everything slipping out of his control once again. But he had to learn to let go.

He stuffed the letter in the envelope and stared at the address. 

One more week until the new schoolyear would start. One more week until life would continue as normal, supposedly (although he wasn’t sure he knew what ‘normal’ really meant these days). And how he wished that his friend slipping away from him would be his greatest worry this year. But with Kelso stuck on the back of his mind he knew that watching Taehyung walk a different path than them would likely even seem like a beautiful thing compared to what was about to come. Maybe it was safer for Taehyung to just stay away from them. Maybe it was safer for all three youngsters to stay away this year.

And reaching out wasn’t the way to do that.

His chest clenched together, as if an iron fist caged his heart and toughened him for what he was about to do. For had he not locked his heart away in the moment, he would’ve never been able to grab his letter with both hands and rip it into pieces. Every inch of him protested, but he wouldn’t allow room for selfishness. Taehyung needed to stay away. And so the pieces of parchment, and his friend’s name shredded with them, ended up in the bin next to the desk. 

-

It was the next day that Namjoon finally managed to distract himself from the gnawing guilt of his decision. His few hours of sleep and restless dreams where he constantly lost his friends, reaching for them in the dark as he chased their bodiless voices had done his energy level absolutely no good. With a strong cup of coffee that he’d gotten at the nearest Muggle train station he pushed through the rotating doors of St. Mungo’s. The sterile-like smell that hit him, as well as the awfully bright white lights that hung overhead, instantly triggered the memory of the last time he had been here; when they had _all_ been here. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling to walk through this hallway once again, although it was entirely different this time. Yet somehow it felt strangely nostalgic. At least last time they had still been together as a group. But he pushed that feeling away, annoyed at himself for even thinking something like that. He took the last sip of his coffee, threw away the cup, and approached the front desk. 

“Good afternoon,” the receptionist greeted him with a smile. “May I help you?”

“Afternoon,” he said. “I’ve come to visit Healer Jung. We’ve scheduled an appointment, but I’m not sure where his office is.”

“Ah, Healer Jung is on the fourth floor, first office on the right. Can’t miss it.”

“Thank you.”

He found his way to the elevator and proceeded to the fourth floor. Out the door he turned right and immediately spotted the sign on the door which read _Healer Jung_ ; impossible to miss. He realised that last time they had all been here, Hoseok hadn’t worked here yet either. Times were moving fast, it seemed. For better or for worse. Or perhaps both, as life hardly ever truly is just good or just bad. 

Two polite knocks on the door and a “come in” from inside, and he entered. 

“Hey,” Namjoon said, closing the door behind him as he spotted Hoseok standing in front of his desk from in the corner of his eye. “How have you— ah.”

When the other person in the room that he had assumed to be his friend turned around, he found another familiar face staring back at him, who seemed just as surprised as he was. 

“Oh— hello Namjoon,” Tai said while shuffling the papers he had in his hands into each other and folding them. “What brings you here?” He blinkingly stared at him for a moment, but then his lips curved up into an amiable smile.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Namjoon sighed, agitated with himself. “I asked for Healer Jung’s office at the front desk, but I didn’t stop to think— Hobi isn’t even a Healer yet of course and— didn’t get much sleep at all— …sorry.” 

Tai’s mouth opened, seemingly wanting to say something, but then he burst out in laughter. “That’s fine, really.” He put the small stack of papers down on his desk and came in for a handshake, which Namjoon took somewhat weakly. “It’s great to see you. How have you been?” Any brief moment of awkwardness with Tai Jung always faded quickly. Perhaps it was the charm of being a Healer; a man of the people, saviour of the ill and miserable. Or perhaps it was just charm of his own. 

“I’ve… been alright,” Namjoon replied, knowing even that was somewhat of an overstatement. In reality he was happy enough to get through a day without worrying about every single aspect of life as it was right now for a single consecutive hour. 

“Hmm,” Tai hummed in response, and Namjoon knew he had a better chance at fooling himself than ever fooling the man in front of him. “You still worry about your friends. How is Jimin?”

“Jimin is good, actually. That isn’t it.”

“Everything else, then?”

“I suppose.”

“I believe we’ve been through this before.”

“We have, it’s just—”

Tai left him no room to finish. “Some things are out of our power. There are things we cannot change and things we cannot solve. People we cannot protect.” He sighed and folded his fingers into each other, his gaze serious and worrying. “All we can do is work hard and strive to be better than we were yesterday.” He paused and arched an eyebrow. “And you _deserve_ your job at Hogwarts.”

Namjoon snorted and shook his head. “Spot on, as usual.” 

“I suppose it’s part of my job to help people worry less about their lives,” Tai replied. “And their pasts and futures alike.” They exchanged smiled, and the man went on. “And people worry an _awful lot_ in this place. And who can blame them, really? Some of them fight for their lives, day in, day out. And some amongst those have to constantly be reminded that I’m— _we_ are on _their_ side. That we don’t kill. We heal. And we’re here to—”

“What?”

Tai fell quiet, and Namjoon gazed at him, his gut suddenly twisting violently, and not from the coffee. Their eyes were locked deadly on each other, and both smiles had quickly faded.

“What did you say?” Namjoon then asked slowly, his heart beating faster. 

Tai raised his eyebrows, and the corners of his mouth twitched up into somewhat of an awkward smile. “I’m not sure which part you’re referring to?” 

“You said,” Namjoon paused and repeated the words he had heard to himself, just to make sure he had heard them right. “We don’t kill. We heal. You said that.”

The awkwardness on Tai’s face faded and turned into something more genuine. A kind understanding. “Yes, I did. I hope you did realise we do that here at St. Mungo’s.” He chuckled at his own joke, but Namjoon’s face remained serious. 

“Sorry, it’s just that… Someone else said the exact same thing last year, and I haven’t been able to get it out of my head ever since.”

“Who was it?”

Whether Namjoon had planned to answer Tai’s question or not, he was never given the chance to do so as the door opened behind him and Hoseok entered the room. He was holding a clipboard in each hand, the pocket of his long, white coat was stuffed with pieces of parchment and held three quills, he had dark circles under his eyes, and his hair was a lopsided mess. He had been ready to say something, but the o-shape of his mouth changed to a wide smile when he saw Namjoon.

“Hey!” he exclaimed, coming in for a hug with the clipboards still in his hands. Namjoon hugged him back awkwardly, patting him on the back. He could feel Tai’s eyes burn into him from behind. “I’m so happy to see you, but—” Hoseok looked from one man to the other. “Why did you come to Tai’s office?”

“Mistake,” Namjoon forced a smile and turned around to look at Tai, who seemed as normal as ever, his expression showing no traces of the tension of mere seconds before. Or perhaps the tension had only been in Namjoon’s own head. The look on the man’s face could’ve fooled him with ease.

“You need me to sign these?” he asked Hoseok, who nodded and handed the clipboards over. He examined them and nodded. “Very well, thank you. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll return to my work now.” He glanced up at Namjoon and gave him a short nod. “It was good to see you again. Don’t be a stranger.” 

“I won’t,” Namjoon replied, his stomach twisting strangely once more. But when Hoseok grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the office and into the hallway, the sensation seemed to fade quickly, and, for the moment, his thoughts on the conversation were left behind in the room with Tai.

###### 

Hoseok figured may have never been more exhausted in his entire life when he finally sank down into a cafeteria chair, the tray that carried their lunch clattering loudly as he dropped in on the table. He noticed the disapproval at his lack of proper manners on Namjoon’s face, and snorted for he, for the first time outside of Hogwarts, properly saw the professor in him. He could appreciate it, mainly because he knew he wouldn’t have to deal with it personally. He unpacked his crab salad sandwich and groaned as he took a huge bite. Namjoon, however, only stared at his own sandwich, not touching it. 

“Something the matter?” Hoseok mumbled between bites, eyeing his friend.

Namjoon slowly started peeling the plastic off his packaged lunch, his eyes still cast downwards. “Not sure.”

“How can you not be sure if something’s wrong?” the former Hufflepuff frowned, noticing that his lack of sleep his new job brought with had limited his patience. “I mean either there is or there isn’t.”

Working at St. Mungo’s had been _great_ for these past couple of weeks. At least that is what Hoseok kept telling himself. In reality, he hadn’t had much time nor energy to really think about what he thought about his new job. His daily tasks mainly consisted of assisting Tai with his work, which mainly meant conducting medical research around several of the wards. Medical research, he had discovered, was more of a drag than he’d expected it to be. It wasn’t as much happening upon cures for the many magical maladies that he came across in a day as it was conducting surveys with patients about their symptoms, pain, and other complaints (which usually resulted in long rants about the facilities comfort, food, or limited visiting hours). All the work he did was logged and reported directly to Tai, who then went over the information and processed and analysed it. Hoseok hadn’t gotten the chance to look into any of the results himself just yet, but he was fairly sure he was not as nearly as close to finding a cure to anything brewing inside of St. Mungo’s as he was to snapping at the next patient who looked at him with a sneer and asked for _the other Jung Healer_. It was safe to say Tai had quite the reputation amongst both patients and staff – a lot to live up to. And he was working his hardest to make sure he lived up to others’ expectation as much as possible with the Jung name tied to him. The stakes were incredibly high, the days long, patients mostly ungrateful, and the cafeteria food was downright awful. But every night Hoseok lay in bed he told himself this was a great opportunity, and everything was _absolutely great_.

“Can you tell me more about Tai?”

The question came unexpectedly, and Hoseok stopped chewing for a brief moment as he locked eyes with his friend. Namjoon seemed serious.

“Erm,” Hoseok said. “What do you want to know? I thought you two had bonded quite a lot.”

“Bonded?” Namjoon repeated the word slowly, and rolled his tongue inside his mouth as if tasting it. “I wouldn’t call it that exactly.”

Hoseok hummed and took a sip from his coffee. It was still far too hot. “Well he always asks how you’re doing anyway.”

“He does?”

“Mhm. So what do you want to know about him?”

“Well,” Namjoon said. “Did he ever have any other aspirations?”

“You mean besides being a Healer?”

Namjoon nodded.”

“Not really. All I ever heard him talk about was becoming a Healer, although…” Hoseok paused and thought about his, going over old memories. “Everyone always figured he was far too academic to actually _like_ being a practicing Healer. Maybe that’s why he specialised in medical research?”

“Has he ever discovered the cure for something before?” 

“Only for more minor symptoms. Never for full maladies. But stuff like that is so rare that it only really needs to happen once in your entire career and you’re basically set for life.”

“Is he passionate about his work?”

“More than anyone else I’ve met in this place. He’s always cooped up into his office going over papers or in meetings with the Ministry.”

“He works with the Ministry?”

“St. Mungo’s works with the Ministry. Where do you think we get our funding?”

“Right.”

Hoseok’s leg was bouncing restlessly up and down under the table now, and he tried taking another sip of his coffee. He found it drinkable this time and desperately gulped down some large sips, hoping for his mood to better. Having Namjoon over for lunch had proven slightly more stressful than he’d anticipated. All he’d wanted was a nice chat about something unimportant; make some stupid jokes and be weird for the hell of it. But perhaps this is what being an adult meant. Boring conversation about careers. 

“Can we talk about something else?” he asked, his foot still tapping on the floor. 

“I have one more question,” Namjoon replied, and Hoseok inhaled sharply through his nose and downed the rest of his coffee. “Do you trust him?”

Hoseok’s leg stopped moving and his eyes shot up at his friend into a deadly stare. “What the hell, Joon?!” He squinted his eyes at his friend in disbelief. “What kind of question _is_ that?”

Namjoon grimaced strangely. “I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important.” 

“After everything Tai did for us you ask me if I trust him? My own flesh and blood?” Hoseok snapped, the paper cup suffering under the grip of his fist as it clenched around the material. “The answer is yes. I trust him with my life, actually. And you should, too, seeing as he saved Jimins’.” Now having trouble supressing feelings of pure anger, Hoseok shoved his chair back and jumped up. 

The former Ravenclaw followed his example, his arm reaching out. But Hoseok pulled away as he tried to touch his shoulder. “Hobi,” Namjoon quietly said, but Hoseok shook his head and began walking into the direction of the elevator.

“Just go,” the elder said as Namjoon followed him. “I really didn’t need this today.”

“I’m sorry,” Namjoon started from behind him. “It’s just that Tai said something when we were in his office that made me think of Livraile. Something about healing and—”

Livid, Hoseok stopped dead and turned around. “Something he said about _healing_ made you ask whether I trusted my own cousin? Better watch you’re not becoming Jin-level paranoid, because you see what it’s doing to him.”

“Wait, Hobi. I’m really sorry—”

“Leave it be,” Hoseok chuckled darkly, still in disbelief about how this day had turned out. “I’ve got enough stress without you throwing around random accusations.”

The elevator doors opened and Hoseok got in, pushing number four. Namjoon gazed at him, helplessly. He could see the regret of the question in his friend’s face, but he couldn’t muster the sympathy to let this slide. 

“Just focus on Kelso,” he added just as the doors closed. The elevator started making its way up, and the shimmer of desperation Hoseok had seen in his friend’s eyes was imprinted on his mind. Whatever had made him ask what he did, Hoseok couldn’t spare the energy to allow himself to think about it right now. Kelso was more than enough to worry about. 

_Everything was going well._

_Everything was just great._


	5. --

###  **\--**

“You slipped up.”

“Only as much as you.”

“You shouldn’t have spoken to them to begin with.”

“Where the fun in that?”

…

“You aren’t taking this seriously.”

“You doubt my dedication?”

“No. I do, however, doubt your motives—”

“My motives are my own.”

“So they are.”

…

“It’s all the same, isn’t it?”

“No, it isn’t.”

“I got you Kelso, didn’t I?”

“We wouldn’t have _needed_ Kelso.” 

“But we do. So here we are.”

“Yes. Here we are.”

…

“They'll come.”

“I know.”


	6. Going Back, Moving Forward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, Part III: What Was Forgotten (May Come Back in Time) starts!  
> I'm very excited for what's about to come, and I hope you guys enjoy it. I've planned this quite well, so I really hope the build up will be worth it. 
> 
> Please feel free to leave me feedback on the suspense or set-ups specifically, as I'm really trying to improve.
> 
> <3

## III: What Was Forgotten (May Come Back in Time)

****

### Chapter 4 – Going Back, Moving Forward

****

The crowd that filled Platform 9 ¾ was as bustling as ever at the start of each new year, with only another eight minutes on the clock before departure. Yet it had never felt more empty to both Jimin and Jungkook, who had stowed away their trunks on the Hogwarts Express, which stood majestically, steaming as its engine hummed to life. The two boys were now bidding farewell to their parents. But as tight goodbye hugs were exchanged both boys’ eyes and minds were elsewhere, scanning the crowd frantically.

“Oh,” Mrs Park sighed as she let go of her son, whose head was long elsewhere. “Please, _please_ for the love of Merlin stay safe. The both of you.” 

Jimin only hummed in response, his desperation to find three familiar faces somewhere around him reaching a new level as the clock told him there were only seven minutes left. 

“We will,” Jungkook answered in his stead, offering her a reassuring smile, although he wasn’t entirely sure he could stick to that promise. “I’ll make sure of it!”

His own father snorted. “You’re the biggest troublemaker of them all.”

Jungkook smiled and opened his mouth to say something, but right at that moment Jimin gasped and pulled on his sleeve, pointing into the other direction. “There!” he exclaimed. “Sorry gotta go— Kook come on!” He dragged Jungkook with him before the younger had the chance to say a last word of goodbye to his parents, and he mouthed a half-hearted apology.

“Guys!” Jimin called out as he dragged himself and his friend through the crowd, and a few angry faces turned their way as he carelessly shoved away several people and their luggage. “Hobi! Yoongi!”

Both Hoseok and Yoongi glanced their way simultaneously upon hearing Jimin’s voice, and the former Hufflepuff’s face lit up. His arm shot up into the air and he waved, then nudged Yoongi with his elbow, who mouthed something that looked like ‘I _know_ ’. 

With a mere four minutes left until departure, Jimin let go of Jungkook and flung his arms around Hoseok’s neck. “I thought you wouldn’t make it!” 

“We almost didn’t,” Hoseok replied with a smirk. Jimin let go of him and hugged Yoongi, who patted him awkwardly on his back in return. “Yoongi couldn’t decide on the right shade of black to wear.” 

“Hilarious,” Yoongi grunted, the dark circles under his eyes speaking for his current state. “Overslept.” 

“I thought Seokjin and you woke up the same time every morning for work?” Jungkook then glanced around, noticing the platform was now slowly emptying. “Where is he?”

Hoseok did not answer, and Jimin noticed a strange flicker in his expression that he couldn’t quite place. But Yoongi yawned and replied: “He didn’t come home last night. Said he wanted to work on the Kelso plan.”

“The… Kelso plan?” Jungkook frowned, eyes quizzically fixated on Yoongi now. Those exact words had also captured Jimin’s full attention, whose eyes found their way to Hoseok’s face, instantly knowing they’d just heard something they weren’t supposed to. 

“He—” Yoongi stopped, eyes widening. He looked at Hoseok, whose warningly cold gaze told him he’d messed up. Badly. “What did I say?” The former Slytherin chuckled awkwardly and rubbed his eyes in an overly exaggerated way, groaning. “Must still be asleep.” He knew he was doing a terrible job at covering his mistake up, but in his current state of exhausted it was the best he could do. 

“Work,” Hoseok then added, finding Jimin’s gaze. “Nothing of relevance.”

 _Anything Seokjin does these days is of relevance_ Jimin thought, but kept to himself as he carefully studied Hoseok’s countenance. He remembered a passage from _The Twenty-first Century Auror’s Handbook: A Modern Guide to the Ancient Art_ that had stuck with him:

_One of an Auror’s finest qualities has always been, and will always be, the ability to instantly spot a liar; a deceiver. Study a great many faces. A face can tell you everything._

And Hoseok’s face told him everything he needed to know right now. They were definitely lying. Kelso was important somehow, and they didn’t want Jungkook and him to know why. But maybe he could crack one of the two if he played it right, no— Hoseok. Definitely Hoseok.

“Alright,” the Hufflepuff then said with a nod, breaking through his seriousness with a radiant smile. From in the corner of his eye he noticed Jungkook’s confusion, which he fully ignored. “Please send him our best when you see him.”

Hoseok nodded slowly. He could hardly ignore how alarmed he felt at Jimin’s willingness to let this go, and was sure this wouldn’t be the last of it. Things were changing fast; _everyone_ was changing, but he sincerely doubted the likelihood of Jimin’s stubbornly curious nature to have died out this easily. “We will.” He glanced up at the clock. “Two more minutes. Better get on.”

Jimin just smiled, then hugged him and Yoongi goodbye. “See you soon.”

Then Jungkook took his turn and hugged Hoseok first, then turned to Yoongi. He wasn’t entirely sure what to say. There were voices inside him screaming to ask more about Kelso; he was sure if he pried long enough Yoongi would eventually give in. But there was no time. It seemed there wasn’t really time for anything between them these days. Fact was that they hadn’t properly even spoken to each other since Yoongi had started his job at the Ministry. Jungkook wanted to ask him a million questions and listen to all the complaints he had; all the nagging in the world. Knowing that he’d have to miss that at Hogwarts from now on suddenly brought tears to his eyes. Sure, he’d have Jimin and it’d be great. But it just wasn’t the same. 

“Bye,” the younger softly said, swallowing thickly.

“You’re not gonna cry, are you?” 

“…No.”

“Good. I can’t deal with that right now. Or ever, actually.” 

But the kindness in the smile on Yoongi’s face could’ve fooled. If only they’d had the time. He embraced Yoongi tightly, fingers digging into the fabric of his robe as he held back his tears.

“Come on, Kook,” the elder sighed as Jungkook sniffed quietly. He held him at arm’s length. “You know where to find me. Always.”

Jungkook nodded and took a deep breath, and, as the sound of the whistle made the last call, he turned away from his friends and jumped onto the now roaring Hogwarts Express.

Both Hoseok and Yoongi watched the train take off in silence, waving and their friends’ faces appeared in the window for a brief moment. And as it was out of sight, neither of them really had it in them to speak what was truly on their hearts.

“Will you miss Hogwarts?” 

“Nah... You?”

“…Yeah, same.”

###### 

Why Q.I.S.T had insisted he come in to train just as heavily as any other day yesterday was beyond Taehyung. The soreness in his limbs had made it difficult for him to even load his trunk onto the train (which he had, of course, insisted of doing himself) when there had only been one more minute till departure. This morning had been exhausting. He had only packed half of what he needed to bring before being awoken by his mother, who had shrieked they only had twenty minutes to pack up and go since he had apparently fallen back asleep after his alarm had gone off. And having finally arrived at King’s Cross, rushing their way to Platform 9 ¾ as they only had a few minutes left, Eon Jin had nearly had a breakdown upon discovering she’d forgotten Mipsi, her frog, at home. 

_Shockingly_ , after having one of the worst mornings in a long time and his body aching all over, Taehyung wasn’t in the best of moods as he made his way past the many full compartments. With his blonde bed hair sticking into every direction, his white button-up only really half buttoned up and stuffed sloppily into his trousers, and his open robe hanging lazily off one shoulder he tried to take deep, controlled breaths to prevent the irritation inside of him at the noise and excited new-school-year-cheer of the students around him growing. (It wasn’t going very well.)

_What were they so happy about anyway?_  
_New year, same shit._

He paused in front of another full compartment and scanned the faces inside. There was a group of young boys happily chatting away. They were all already fully and neatly dressed in their school robes, none of them sporting any House colours, which meant they were first-years. 

“—discover secrets about Hogwarts that no one has discovered before!” squeaked one of them in his prepubescent voice. 

“I doubt that’ll be possible,” replied another brown-haired boy with spectacles on. “The castle is _ancient_ , so I bet you there are no more secrets waiting for _us_ to come and discover.”

“Not with that attitude,” quipped the box next to the second. “I bet tons of stuff happens at Hogwarts. All the time!”

“Like what? Adventures?”

“Sure. Mysteries, adventures, epic showdowns, you name it!”

“My father told me last week that on the fourth floor there’s a painting that— oh… uhm…”

Taehyung wasn’t fully aware that he had been staring darkly at the group of friends from behind the glass until all eyes turned to him, and the boys all fell silent. One of them even shrunk back and whispered something to his friend next to him, who then shook his head. 

“H-hello,” the boy with spectacles spoke up. “Uhm, this compartment is full.”

Slowly coming out of his trance, Taehyung snorted. “No shit,” he said, but kept staring at their faces, for they reminded him of his own friends. It wasn’t only that; they reminded him of more _naive_ times, when he himself had longed for adventure; for _something_ to happen at Hogwarts. Something exciting that would change his life. He had wished for more.

Oh, and how he’d gotten what he had wished for.  
And how royally devastated it had left him.

He caught his own reflection in the glass, and found he didn’t recognise the person he was seeing anymore. His staring, glazing eyes spoke for the aching of his soul, or what he felt was left of his soul these days. And he hoped the boys inside would see. That they would see what, on the inside, he was screaming at them.

_’IT’S NOT WORTH IT!’_

It wasn’t.

But not a single word slipped past his lips and Taehyung dragged himself along past more compartments, leaving the confused and terrified boys to their rose-coloured dreams and fantasies. 

It wasn’t until he had reached the second to last wagon that he stopped again, unconsciously, as he caught sight of a boy. 

_Jimin._

Taehyung’s chest clenched together as his heart skipped a beat.

Jimin was sitting in the seat next to the window with a notebook in his hands. Taehyung couldn’t make out what he was saying, but he seemed to be reading from his notes to Jungkook, who was sitting beside him, feet resting on the couch opposite from them. 

A moment of nothing. Then there was a sudden, raging urge inside of him to pound on the glass or even break it or kick the door in. It didn’t come from a place of anger or frustration, strangely enough, seeing as he thought that was the only thing he was capable of feeling these days. 

It was desperation. 

He was desperate. Desperate for Jimin to look at him. For them to look each other in the eyes and just be still. And Jimin would then tell him things would go back to normal again; that they would all welcome him back into the group with open arms. That all would be forgotten and left in the past. They wouldn’t have to talk about anything at all. They could just sit somewhere quiet and… and just _be_. 

Just the two of them.

And it was in this moment, more than ever, that Taehyung realised that he needed to stay far away. Because when Jimin looked up from his notebook and noticed him standing in the hallway, their eyes meeting, his heart shattered all over again. And it would time and time again, knowing that he would never be able to express this love he felt. A love that was so pure and honest and aching. And it was growing. And he knew it would never stop doing just that. 

For the briefest moment Taehyung felt a twitch in the corners of his mouth; an unconscious response to finding Jimin looking at him in a curious rather than cautious way, since their crossing had taken them both by surprise. Jungkook was looking at him too now.

_Just walk in. Walk in and sit down._

But the call of his name from further up ahead snapped him out of it. He glanced sideways to find a Chaser from his team waving at him.

“Taehyuuuung, there you are! We’ve saved you a seat!” 

“Uhm,” Taehyung hesitated. 

But when he turned back to look at Jimin and Jungkook, they had both returned to the notebook. For a moment, Taehyung wondered if they had even really look each other, or whether it had all been in his head. He was so tired. All he wanted to do was sleep for a long, long time. But knowing being back at Hogwarts meant keeping up appearances. So he turned away from the two boys in the compartment, put on his best fake smile, and pushed on as he always did.

###### 

Seokjin was sitting through his fourth briefing of the day. If anyone had told him about half a year ago there was an even more boring job than teaching he would’ve laughed. But here he was. Although, he had to admit, it wasn’t boring for the same reasons. It wasn’t unchallenging or tedious or what he considered below his level. It was the fact that he had been wasting much of his time at work on cases that he had absolutely no heart for. 

Being a Strategist in the Auror Department meant attending briefings, making sure all the Aurors were up to date and informed about their cases, going through and filing paperwork, and offering written advice to the team’s leaders after every field mission. It wasn’t something anyone would consider likely boring, but Seokjin just couldn’t get himself to care much about catching the band of Hippogriff poachers that had been active for the past two months, or the black market trade in Ireland that seemed to be on the rise. 

But getting this job had taken him two official intelligence exams, a truth serum interview, and a good word from both Terri and Namjoon’s parents, so he wasn’t about to blow it and lose his chance to get every bit of information on what really mattered. He did his job, and he did it damn well. He made sure that no matter how hysterical he felt he always smiled at the right times, paid attention, and sucked up (although he preferred _charmed_ ) the right people. After all, this job had gotten him Kelso so far.

Kelso. This mysterious Scottish town held answers. And on this Saturday, the first weekend of the new school year, he was going to be out to get them. But there was still something on his mind that he needed arranged before that.

“—concludes this meeting. Questions?” 

Seokjin glanced around the table, hoping that none of the Aurors would take up too much time. He’d been stuck in this room for hours, and he needed some fresh air as much as he needed to get to the equipment room. He fidgeted his fingers under the table and blinked hard, unable to supress his otherwise seemingly controlled anxiety. 

“Dismissed, then.”

Relieved that no one had answered to that call, Seokjin shoved his chair back and messily piled up the documents before him and shoved them in his map. As he hurried out of the room someone called after him, but he ignored it, pretending he hadn’t heard. He made his way along a succession of office doors and turned right at the end of the hallway into another, wider one. He stopped in front of the third door on his right. With a quick glance backwards to check if no one had trailed him (a habit he had adopted) he slipped his wand out of his pocket, nearly dropping his map as he did, and held it horizontally against the long rectangle-shaped, wooden authoriser next to the door. It started glowing softly as it scanned his wand.

“Strategist Kim. Authorisation: lower tier,” a male voice said calmly, and the sign above the door changed from _Closed_ to _Lower Tier_. 

Seokjin entered the room and closed the door behind him. Despite the fact that him being in here wasn’t suspicious, he _felt_ suspicious, and he knew that if anyone came in asking just the wrong type of questions he wouldn’t be able to make sure he didn’t _look_ it either.

The Magical Equipment Inventory Room that he was in – the lower tier which he was legally authorised to access freely – wasn’t big at all. In fact it wasn’t much bigger than a large broom closet. That wasn’t strange seeing as most of the staff in this department consisted of Aurors, which all had access to the higher tier inventory rooms. Those rooms had _real_ mission equipment like special goggles which would allow one to see through walls, devices which would allow you to listen in on any conversation, all kinds of anti-toxins and serums and mysterious bottles that were labelled **IN CASE OF EMERGENCY ONLY**. Of course Seokjin had only _heard_ about these high tier rooms from his colleagues. He had never actually seen them since his level of authorisation would cause him to start choking as soon as he would enter one; one of the many deadly protection systems of the Ministry. 

As for the lower tier room, well… it was even surprising the rest of the staff _had_ a room to access, seeing as no one ever really went out into the field. Judging by the dust on the very few planks, no one had used it in a long while. The only things Seokjin saw in here looked more like trinkets than equipment; a few ancient camouflage rings, something broken that looked like one half of a glass orb, several small golden telescopes, and a couple of strange-looking buttons, which Seokjin understood were for recording images secretly. He took a handful of the buttons, knowing it would probably be the best he could do.

“Fuck,” he cursed, having hoped that there would at least be _something_ that he could use for the Kelso plan. But instead he got stuck with _buttons_. 

_Fucking buttons._

He turned away, angrily shoving the little things inside his robe pocket, and reached for the door. 

But as he grabbed the doorknob, something caught his eye above him on his right. It did so because it wasn’t as dust-covered and seemingly outdated as the rest of the crap in here. He reached out for it on the upper plank and observed it. It was a small silver, rectangular-shaped device. Smooth, no inscription. It looked like nothing more than a shimmering block to him, but judging by the state it was in, it had to at least be… _newer_ that anything else in this place. 

He checked the plank again and found a tiny scroll of parchment which read _Disapparate Trackers: Two. Gives the user of one tracker the opportunity to Disapparate directly to the location of the user of the second tracker without prior knowledge of this location. No physical contact between users needed._ And as he checked the plank again, he found the second device; exactly the same as the first. 

He smiled, suddenly feeling a surge of hysterical excitement. 

_This was something. If he could manage to find his father again— or perhaps even Livraile, and slip one of these babies into their pockets somehow... Yes. This was good._

He safely stored both the Disapparate Trackers in his inside pocket and exited the room.

“Oh, hi!”

Seokjin flinched back, unprepared for Yami, who had been waiting in front of the door. She grinned toothily at him, clearly amused at his jumpiness (she did enjoy making fun of him whenever she could). 

“Wait— you were _actually_ in lower tier? I don’t think anyone’s actually been in there in years.”

“I was… uhm…” was the only thing Seokjin could bring himself to say, his brain shutting down. He could even feel his face flushing bright red— _Keep yourself together._

Yami snorted. “Hey, no judgement here. Find anything good?”

Seokjin blinkingly stared at her for a moment, then said: “Buttons.”

“Ooooh, buttons!” Yami lilted and clapped her hands together. “ _Nice._ ”

“I need to go.”

“Oh, come _on_! I was just playing around! Seokjiiiiin—”

But Seokjin kept walking, his heart pounding fast. Yami didn’t know. Of course not. How in the world could she know that – no matter how ridiculous it sounded – the fate of him and his friends could rest entirely on two small silver objects and a bunch of lower tier, dusty buttons? And as he told himself that, he could barely even believe it himself.


	7. Kelso

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello.
> 
> Yes, yes, I know. Holy shit- _it lives_.  
>  Last year, my life drastically changed. It unfortunately made it so that keeping on writing this piece became a little less possible for a long-ass time; more mentally than anything. And the more time passed, the harder it became. 
> 
> I've put a lot of (too much) pressure on myself to write this specific chapter. I've left it nearly finished for months, not being able to write those final scenes. But here it finally is! I'm not sure if any of you will still be here to read it or have completely gone off the story, but ultimately I am very glad to be uploading this. I plan to finish this series, because it's very dear to me. But please bear with me as I may update excruciatingly slowly!
> 
> Please enjoy this chapter, which I've tortured myself over for far too long.
> 
> Life is still strange, as I suppose it always will be, but I'm mostly alright.

****

### Chapter 5 – Kelso 

****

Having attended more briefings that he could count by now, Seokjin knew the drill. He knew what was important to mention and which details to pay attention to. And he also knew how to spot confusion on someone’s face.

“Hobi?” he said. “What is it?”

They’d been over the plan several times and were mere minutes away from finally leaving. There was no more time.

“I just— I don’t get the goggles part,” Hoseok said. He glanced at Yoongi, who was sitting next to him, for an answer.

“Goggles?” Namjoon frowned from across the table. 

Hoseok brought both his index fingers to his thumbs, creating two circles between his fingers and lifted them to his eyes. “ _Goggles._ The goggles Yoongi used to Apparate us into Kelso.”

“I _Googled_ it.” Yoongi pushed his friend’s hands down. “It’s an online search engine. I found photos of a field in that I could Apparate us into.”

“Ah, right” Hoseok nodded, yet still having no clue about what Yoongi had just explained. “But-”

“It doesn’t matter,” Namjoon interjected. Today was getting to him; a week’s worth of sleepless nights was. Getting a day off from teaching had already been hard now that he was a professor at Hogwarts. He’d had to lie to his colleagues and pretend he was hogged up in his room, ill. Mrs. Folium, the Herbology professor, had offered _so kindly_ to help cure whatever sickness had been pestering him. He’d only been able to get her to leave by finally convincing her it was a bad case of hemorrhoids. “Yoongi can get us there, and that’s that.”

“Yes,” Seokjin agreed, restlessly fidgeting with his wand. “Anything else?”

Everyone kept quiet this time.

“Time to go, then.”

They got up and gathered around Yoongi, who was wearing faded denim jeans, a black shirt, and black sneakers. Out of all of them, he had succeeded the most in looking like an inconspicuous Muggle— mostly because he’d spent most of his life as one. Seokjin came in second, having chosen to wear a baby pink button-up and a pair of beige trousers that were a little _too_ classy, but not by far as bad a choice as the combination of white shorts, high blue socks in sandals, and white and blue striped _pyjama shirt_ that Hoseok had put together (‘What? The colours match!’). Or, in Yoongi’s humble opinion, Namjoon’s favourite choice of wearing his denim dungarees and pink cap (‘I saw it in a Muggle fashion magazine’). All in all, they could’ve done a lot worse. He assumed in the very worst case scenario people would suspect them of being a strange group of tourists.

Yoongi inhaled deeply and concentrated on the photo he’d found online: the green field near the water, looking out on the town of Kelso and the tower of the church. There were bins and and brick houses and— He felt a tingle and took the leap. A forceful pull behind his navel and a familiar sickening feeling followed. 

When he opened his eyes back open a few seconds later, he found himself outside, in a live version of the image imprinted on his mind. The air here felt clearer somehow—purer. He took a few controlled breaths to let the nausea of the Apparation seep out of him, and he heard his friends do the same.

“Okay,” Seokjin said after half a minute. He tried to not give in to the anxiety slowly settling in his lower stomach. “ _Okay._ Now we find the church. After the church, we’ll find the cafe owner the Aurors spoke to. They’ll lead us to the identity of the missing person and where Livraile was spotted. Ready?” 

The boys all nodded.

With around 6,000 inhabitants, Kelso was a small enough town for them to find what they needed fast enough. The North Parish Church on Bowmont Street was a beautiful thing to see. Having been added to the lists of Scottish monuments in 1971, it was one of the town’s most known places, and was now being kept under the authority of a woman named Margaret Maollosa. Seokjin had found open records of the church at the Ministry as being registered as being the spiritual centre of many religious people throughout the years— Maollosa amongst them. And – to some ironic – a great many wizards and witches, of which Maollosa also happened to be one. Religious groups amongst the Wizarding community weren’t very big, mostly due to the long and painful history of witch hunts and burnings, but they still existed. And if they had any chance of finding the Wizarding community in Kelso, Maollosa would be their best shot.

Namjoon was the one to push open the fence, and the other three followed behind him as he climbed the few steps up to the entrance. As he paused briefly before knocking on the door, Yoongi dabbed the sweat off his face with his forearm, feeling the consequence of wearing a black shirt on a hot summer’s day stick against his skin.  
Seokjin took the opportunity to scan the environment. They had only run into a handful of people on their way here, all of them Muggles who had taken a turn at staring at their outfits with a puzzled look. But none of them had seemed particularly bothered with their presence. Roxburgh Street was completely empty at this moment.  
Hoseok, who stood beside him, couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched. He hadn’t shared this with the others, knowing very damn well that his paranoia had stemmed not only from his nerves about today, but something else entirely. _Guilt._ Right before he set off from home, he’d done something he shouldn’t have. It was just the feeling that no one would be aware what they’d set out doing today, that no one would know they went to Kelso, that had plagued him. If anything happened; would go wrong, then-

_No. Nothing’ll go wrong. Get your shit together._

The door of the church opened, slowly. A petite elderly woman dressed in a long and thin, navy summer robe appeared in the doorway. Her eyes flicked from one boy to another. She examined them from head to toe.

“Hello Miss Maollosa,” Seokjin said. “Sorry to bother you. We work at the Ministry of Magic, and we’d like to ask you some questions if possible.”

The words had been chosen carefully, of course. Legally, no one at the Ministry was allowed to use their position of power outside of official work business. But informing someone that they worked _at_ the Ministry was far from forbidden. At least, Seokjin had convinced himself of that. Not really, but just about enough to be able to go through with the plan.

“Ah,” she said so softly that it almost sounded like a huff. “Please.” She beckoned them inside with a wave of her bony hand.

Much to their relief - Yoongi’s especially - it was much cooler inside. The church consisted of one large main space with a ceiling as high to give way to its two stories. There were rows of hard wooden benches on their left and right, and a low podium on the other side. The floor was laid with red, dusty carpet, and the walls above the podium held large, glass stained windows. The middle and largest one depicted an image of Jesus Christ in a long, white robe. All four boys stared at it, and Margaret Maollosa hummed softly.

“Our Lord and Saviour was the first ever wizard to openly be accepted amongst Muggles,” she said in her croaky voice, and Namjoon could have sworn she had not used her voice in years.

“Jesus was a wizard?” Yoongi asked without thinking.

“Oh, my love,” Maollosa smiled at him. “The greatest that ever lived.”

The boys followed her as she led them around the benches and towards the podium. Yoongi spotted a piano, and couldn’t help but feel nostalgic as he thought back of all the time he’d found himself completely mesmerised by the piano player whenever he’d visited church with his parents over Christmas.

“Excuse my ignorance, Ms Maollosa,” Seokjin then said. “But did they not crucify him?”

The woman nodded slowly as she ascended the podium, her chin up at the window. “They did.” She turned around. Her face read the solemnity of her age now, her mouth taut. “There were the Muggles that loved and adored Him, and the Muggles that hated him for what he was. The latter group was infested by misguided hatred, and, most of all, fear.”

“Fear?” Hoseok asked, knowing very little about this topic.

“Yes, child,” Maollosa’s eyes scanned him. “He fed the poor and healed the sick and broken with a single touch. But the thing that inspired so much hatred was that…” she paused with a soft groan. “He wanted the ones that followed him to be like him. The Muggles that opposed him feared what he was, yes. But they mostly feared what he wanted. And that was for the Muggles to join the Wizarding community. For everyone to live in complete harmony. Together.”

The four exchanged puzzled glanced with each other, each not entirely sure what to say. The idea for Muggles to join the Wizarding community seemed absurd. Only close-related family and friends of wizard and witches ever knew of their existence nowadays, and even that often came with hardships and problems. 

Hoseok recalled an article he’d read in The Daily Prophet a while back, about a Muggle who had almost overdosed on some kind of pill after he’d found out his only child was eligible to go to Hogwarts. This sort of stuff often went wrong. It was dangerous.

“I’m sorry, but… _how_ exactly?” he asked.

Maollosa did not answer his question. She seemed lost in thought for a moment, caught in a trail of memories of ancient times and ways. Her fingers stroked a necklace she was wearing. Seokjin couldn’t see what it was exactly, but he found himself getting impatient. Every minute they spent listening to the ramble of this woman, they’d lose trying to find traces of Livraile in Kelso.

“The work of the Lord… is mysterious. Still unknown to us in so many ways,” Maollosa continued, unaware of Seokjin’s growing restlessness. “But we follow His teachings.”

“Ms Maollosa—”

“There are only thirty-four of us in Kelso.” Maollosa spoke before Seokjin had the chance to say anything. “Search for Bearnard and Ian. I do not know which of the two spoke to your colleagues that day.”

The four boys remained in their spots, wordless. Somehow Namjoon felt like they were still waiting for something big; something she would say that would fit all the puzzle pieces together. Surely it all meant _something_. Margaret Maollosa was no ordinary woman, he realised that much. Perhaps she’d been an extraordinary witch in her today— or perhaps she still was.

“Bearnard lives near the Broomlands Primary School, and Ian has his cafe that does breakfast this time a day on the other side of the River Tweed on Spylaw Road. It’s next to one of those Muggle work-out places- a gym,” Maollosa continued, guiding them towards the exit. “Kelso is small, but it could take you a while to get from one side to the other by foot. I would recommend against Apparating like you did to get here.” She smiled sweetly at Yoongi. “We have good relations with the Muggles here, and we don’t want that to change.”

-

They had found a spot in the shade under a large tree to speak privately. Or what they considered as private as it could get, keeping in mind Maollosa had already known about their arrival in Kelso prior to them coming knocking on the Church’s door. None of them were particularly happy about it, but Hoseok especially could barely keep his nerves under control anymore. He tried to shield the fact his hands were trembling by shoving them inside his pockets, which was far too warm. 

_What else did she know? Did she know about the letter he’d sent, too? And if she did, who else did? He’d been so stupid. Jin would kill him if he found out._

“So we’ve got two names, Bearnard and Ian,” Jin stated as his eyes flicked over the streets, carefully scanning them for any passerby. “There is no knowing whether they’ll even be in town today, but we need to take our chances.”

“Okay, so we’re not going to talk about how the creepy old woman knew about us at all?” Yoongi said under his breath, and Hoseok was glad he wasn’t the only one worried. 

“Maollosa is a respected witch in the community,” Seokjin answered, but that did not comfort Yoongi nor Hoseok. Namjoon, meanwhile, stared at the grass beneath him, wondering if he could do _more_ somehow. Contribute.

“We need to get moving. I say we start with the Broomlands school. It should be easy enough to find. Perhaps we can get on one of those Muggle vehicles. Yoongi, do you know how to drive one?”

“We can’t just _take_ a random car. It may come as a surprise to you, but Muggles also frown upon stealing,” Yoongi smirked at Hoseok, who couldn’t get himself to do the same.

“Maybe,” Namjoon then spoke up, “we could split up. Two of us go find Bearnard near the Broomlands school, and the other two go find Ian on Spylaw Road. If the only danger is Maollosa having known about us, I’d say that’s hardly real danger. She made no attempt to hide it, did she? It was more like a… a friendly warning?”

Seokjin nodded. “I agree. Splitting up does seem like a good plan. I say we meet back up again in three hours at the church, that should give us plenty of time.”

Hoseok wanted to protest but didn’t. Logically, he knew splitting up would be the best thing to do. The sooner they were done, the sooner they’d be out of this place. He just did not want to leave his friends.

“Hobi, you want to come with me?” Seokjin then asked.

“Yeah, sure,” he tried to answer casually, failing as his voice cracked. He scraped his throat. “Yeah.”

“Okay, so Hobi and I will take Spylaw Road, then. You two take Broomlands.”

“Cool. Just one sec, guys.” Yoongi reached into his pocket and pulled out a pen. “Give me your hands.” They took turns in presenting their hands to him. “Here’s the address to the church. In case you need to find your way back.”

###### 

Hoseok did not trust the silence between him and Seokjin as they made their way down Bowmont Street. There must’ve been a reason Seokjin has asked _him_ specifically to join him, he was convinced of it. Seokjin saw things that others didn’t. He could probably see the guilt boiling inside of him, eating away at his entire being. Without thinking, Hoseok started chewing on his nails. Something he hadn’t done in years.  
They passed a few shops and restaurants, and his stomach growled as he caught a whiff of freshly baked bread as they took a right on a street called Horsemarket. He ignored it. He wasn’t hungry. Here - in what he assumed what the centre of the town - it was quite a bit livelier. The people that they passed did not give them much attention thankfully, most too busy with each other or the devices they recognised as portable phones. 

“Maybe we should ask someone,” Hoseok said as Seokjin paused and glanced from left to right as the road took a split.

“Sure,” Seokjin answered casually, checking a few people out. “You do the honours.”

Hoseok observed the stream of passerby and shops and decided on a friendly face. He approached a balding man who was donning an apron and was busy sorting flowers into bouquets in front of a shop. “Excuse me,” Hoseok said.

“Mornin’!” The man greeted him with a radiant smile. “How may I help ye? Special occasion? ”

“I was actually hoping you could help me with some directions.”

“Tha’ I can do, too, lad. Where d’you need to be?”

“Spylaw Road.”

“Spylaw… Yeah, yeah, I know the name, but… let’s see ‘ere, then.”

The man slipped his phone out of his pocket and swiped his thumb over the screen. The two boys waited patiently as the man tapped away.

“Yeah… err… well… Damn, I’m getting too old for this technology,” he laughed, then pointed at his screen as he showed it to Hoseok, who desperately tried to hide the fact he knew nothing about the device in his hand by nodding intensely. “This arrow ‘ere is we are. Spylaw Road is… o’er there past the River Tweed. Follow the road that passes Springwood Park and Brigend Park.” 

“Thank you,” Hoseok said, trying to memorise the digital map. 

“If youse going past the river ye might be better off takin’ the bus,” another man with an exceptionally bright green shirt chimed in. He did not look up from the bouquet of sunflowers in his hands. “It’s about 25 minutes to walk thataway,” he gestured to the right with his thumb.

“Right,” Hoseok said a little uneasily. “Thank you.” He returned to Seokjin, who had been listening in attentively. “So, are we taking a bus?”

“We can’t,” Seokjin answered. “We didn’t bring any Muggle currency with us.”

“Ah…” Hoseok sighed.

They started walking and took a left down another road. There were more shops and hotels and places to eat. Hoseok pretended to study them with great interest as he felt Seokjin’s gaze burning into him. He avoided eye contact for a good while and tore the tip of his nail off.

The directions were not hard to follow. All signs they found on the road pointed them into the right direction, and within 15 minutes they found themselves past the River Tweed, and on the road that led them between Springwood Park and Brigend Park. They passed a bus stop and a Jet Petrol Station. 

“Hoseok?” Seokjin suddenly slowed his pace. 

Hoseok stopped dead in his tracks. It wasn’t as much the tone in which Seokjin said his name as the fact he called him by his actual name. They crossed eyes.

“I know what you did.”

It was as he’d suspected. Seokjin had known all along. Hoseok’s heart started racing. Had the heat been this bad all along? The sun burned hot against his forehead and he suddenly noticed how dry his mouth was. He try to swallow.

“Jin…” he croaked. “I only did it because no one would know where we’d be if something went wrong.” Once started, he couldn’t stop himself from rambling on. “I know that’s the whole idea of a secret mission, but I figured if something went down at least the others would have the _right_ to know. We’re a _team_ \- we need to stick _together_ , Jin! A-and I figured Jimin made most sense to tell, because Kook is impulsive and Tae-”

“You _told_ Jimin about today?!” Seokjin hissed.

“Wh- you-” Hoseok stumbled over his words. “You said you knew!”

Trying to keep himself under control, Seokjin shook his head. “I suspected you’d done _something_. Me telling you that I knew what was merely a bluff. I can’t believe you told him! Was there anyone around to hear you?”

“Well, no…” Hoseok suddenly knew that what was about to come next wouldn’t make the situation better. “Because I wrote him.”

“You… wrote him,” Seokjin repeated the words. He now seemed to hold his breath altogether and his eyes flicked from one side to another. Releasing the air in his lungs he buried his face in his hands. “I can’t believe you. What if someone intercepts the letter?”

“I’m not an idiot,” Hoseok replied, to which Seokjin snorted sarcastically. “I cast a protection charm. If anyone else than Jimin opens the envelope, it’ll self-destruct.” 

“Fine. You’re only three quarters of the idiot I thought you were, congratulations.” Seokjin turned around and proceeded to walk along the path. 

Hoseok followed after him quickly. “Aren’t you going to yell at me? Tell me how I’ve jeopardised the entire mission?” 

Seokjin sighed heavily and shook his head. “We all agreed we wouldn’t tell the others, but neither you nor Yoongi were really for it to start with. What’s done is done.”

Not sure what to say to that, Hoseok remained quiet. This wasn’t the type of confrontation he’d imagined it’d be. He’d even been more angry with himself in his _own_ head than Seokjin was. 

“But-”

“ _I trust your judgement,_ ” Seokjin interrupted him. 

Hoseok left it at that. It wasn’t enough for his nerves to calm, but he left it alone. After all Seokjin was right: what was done, was done.

They walked in silence again for a short while through the shade, which was a minor relief to both of them. Every moment they were able to hide from the sun was a grateful one.  
When they passed another bus stop, Seokjin stopped to stare at the many pamphlets that had been stuck to the glass. When Hoeseok observed them, he noticed they were all the same.

_**MISSING: MY CAT TIKI** _  
_Please help my find my little bean!_  
_If you find him, please call this number…_

Most of the pamphlets were tattered and seemed more than at least a month old. Others looked fresher, the ink not entirely bled into the paper yet.

“What?” Hoseok asked when Seokjin kept staring at them and his brow slowly furrowed.

Seokjin hummed. “I just find it strange.” He turned around and scanned the area. “This is the fifth place I’ve seen these pamphlets. They’re all over town.”

“So? Someone’s missing their cat.” Hoseok was unaware he started chewing on his nails again.

“It’s not that.” Seokjin said. “The entire reason we’re here is because of person gone missing around here. Yet I haven’t seen any pamphlets nor have we heard anyone around talk about it. No one seems particularly on edge or bothered either. It just seems strange for a small town like this.” 

“Maybe people don’t want to talk about it.”

“People _always_ want to talk about this sort of thing. Remember two years ago? When students went missing it’s all people could ever talk about, even us.”

“But we were kids.”

“Doesn’t matter. Adults are the same. People live for the gossip and drama.”

 _You, maybe_ Hoseok caught himself thinking. He remembered exactly how much he’d _hated_ it when others had talked about Zed when he’d gone missing. The entire sense of ‘mystery’ people managed to find behind it; almost in a thrilling sort of way.

“Excuse me,” Seokjin politely held his hand up at a pair of women who happened to pass by.

“Yes?” one of them replied.

“Could you perhaps point us in the direction of Spylaw Road? We’re trying to find the gym.” 

“On a warm day like this? I don’t envy yous!” the other woman laughed. 

“Well…” Seokjin said softly, and Hoseok instantly recognised his theatrical acting, after having fallen for it himself one too many times in the past. “At risk of sounding silly, after I heard of someone gone missing around town I simply didn’t feel as safe anymore. So my friend and I decided to get a little stronger. To defend ourselves.”

The two women looked at each other, confused. Hoseok could find himself admiring Seokjin’s subtle ways of conversation and prying, although he wasn’t quite sure it had worked this time. But then-

“Missin’?” 

“Yes. Supposedly a strange-looking, blonde woman was spotted around town, too. Surely you know?”

“Hon, yous probably been watching too much telly. I’ve ‘eard of no missing persons around Kelso. Ever! And my family’s lived ‘ere for decades.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Of course.”

The other woman shook her head and shrugged. “No one missing around ‘ere, love.”

“Thank you.” Seokjin pressed on immediately, and Hoseok smiled apologetically at the two women they left behind with no further explanation.

“Hey,” Hoseok called after his friend, but he was ignored. He tried to keep up.

They passed a sequence of large houses, each with their own, nicely kept gardens, and garbage bins neatly placed in rows by the side of the road. Hoseok knew better by now than to try to attempt to get Seokjin to talk to him, especially at this pace.  
At the road split, just before a roundabout up ahead, they took a right. Hoseok caught a glimpse of a sign on his left.

_**Spylaw Road Industrial Estate** _

Spylaw Road was, to their surprise, full of furniture shops and agriculture-based companies. The road was more narrow here, with a few scattered cars parked on their left and right. Seokjin and Hoseok both thought it, but neither of them said it.

_This was hardly the place for a cafe._

Seokjin stopped and stared at the building on their right, which read _**ANCROFT TRACTORS Ltd**_. There were several large, strange-looking vehicles parked in the lot, which, Hoseok assumed, would be the ‘tractors’. His friend wasted no time and pushed through the bushes, towards a group of four young men who were standing in front of one of the vehicles. Their conversation instantly died out when they saw Seokjin approached him, and Hoseok’s level of anxiety reached a new level when it mixed itself with second-hand embarrassment. He did not follow Seokjin through the bushes, but kept in hearing distance.

“Excuse me.”

“Whoa mate, are you okay?”

“No, I’m not. I am the nephew of the person that went missing here in town. You must’ve heard about it all around, I’m sure. I’m trying to come into contact with people who might know more.”

Quiet.

“Missing? Joe, you know who’s gone missin’ around ‘here?”

“Uhhh.” The guy named Joe didn’t look or sound particularly bright. “No. But maybe Lenny would know. Lenny? Lenny, c’mere would you?! This lad is trynna find the missing person.”

“Missing?”

The conversation went on but Seokjin knew more than enough. Maybe the person Seokjin had once been would’ve been able to keep his cool. But when he turn around to look at Hoseok, he saw that something inside him was breaking. He saw someone who sought comfort in his friend; to so desperately share the new-found fear that struck him as he realised something was terribly wrong. It took Hoseok a second.

###### 

“Ugh,” Yoongi groaned loudly. The back of his shirt stuck wetly to his back now, the fabric hot. “We’ve been this way already. Look- there, that bush looks familiar!”

“You’re probably having a sunstroke.”

“How is it so fucking hot this early in the day?”

“...”

“Joon.”

“...”

“ _Namjoon._ ”

“What?”

“Ugh.”

“Please be serious.”

“I am. I’m seriously annoyed.”

“Look.”

Namjoon pointed at a sign, and Yoongi sighed in relief.

**_BROOMLANDS_ **  
**_LEADING TO:_ **  
**_BROOMLANDS COURT_ **  
**_BROOMLANDS GARDENS_ **  
_**BROOMLANDS HOUSE** _

They followed the path and did not need to look far to find the school that Maollosa had mentioned before. On their right was a charming building with green-painted walls and round windows. Inside one of the rooms they could see a group of young children attentively listening to their teacher.

“She said Bearnard lived near this place, right?” Yoongi asked while looking around. 

The Broomlands area was very green, and the road led them further into some woods. Had they not been here on official business (as Namjoon had “code-called” what they were doing) and had the weather not been so un-fucking-pleasant, this may have been a part of Kelso Yoongi would’ve appreciated. He wasn’t a big nature-freak. On the contrary, he preferred the comfort of his dark bedroom, curtains shut, working on his projects. But he was no fool who couldn’t recognise beauty when it was right in front of him. For a moment, he allowed himself to take in the sounds and smells around him. For a moment, there was no Kelso. There were no mysteries and missing persons and Livrailes in the world. Just the smell of bark and leaf and… something that smelled like dog poop. Ugh.

“Yoongi, look!” Namjoon whispered. 

A man coming their way. 

“Excuse me,” Namjoon waved at the man, who cheerfully waved back.

“Hi there!” the man said as he stopped for them. He observed them. “You’re not from around ‘ere, are ye?”

“That’s right,” Namjoon answered. “We’re here to visit an uncle of ours and-”

“Is that a wand?” Yoongi’s eyes rested on something sticking out of the man’s pocket, which - judging by the sudden way the man’s face suddenly flushed - clearly was a wand.

“Merlin’s hairy nuts! I swear I thought I’d slipped it in properly, but these Muggle pockets get me every damn time.” He shoved his wand further down his pocket. “You… ye won’t report me, will ye? I’ve had trouble with the Ministry before. Not this, but I once tried to steal me auntie’s brooms when I was a wee lad, with me mum’s wand! They didn’t go so hard on me, but I’d rather not cross ‘em again- not for almost _exposing_ the wizarding community, too! And I- wait, you _are_ wizards, aren’t ye? If ye’re not, forget what I said-”

“Please, it’s alright!” Namjoon told him and slipped out his own wand to show him. “We’re wizards and we won’t report you to the Ministry. These things happen.”

“Oh phew!” the man wiped his forehead with his arm, his bottom lip trembling slightly. He seemed disproportionally nervous. “Sorry, it’s been a rough month, lads. The Ministry droppin’ by me house last week an’ all has left me a lil’ on edge is all.”

“What was that, the Ministry? What’s your name?” Yoongi quickly said, suddenly alert. Not only had they found a wizard, but could they have found-

“McArthur.” The man stuck his hand out. “Bearnard McArthur.” Yoongi and Namjoon both shook his hand, smiling at each other.

“Bearnard!” Namjoon exclaimed. It seemed to good to be true, but who was he to questions something going _right_ for once? They deserved it. “You were actually the one we were looking for. We’re from the Mi-” he stopped mid-sentence, suddenly well aware of how nervous another encounter with the Ministry could make Bearnard. 

“From the Missing Persons registry,” Yoongi built on Namjoon’s sentence. “We’re here to officially log all the data for our archives. Err- visually and such.”

“Oh?” Bearnard scratched at his chest. “Well, I already told the Ministry all I knew about Giselda. Didn’t they send you all the data already?”

“Unfortunately, no. The Ministry’s own research is top secret, and we are not allowed any access to it. So we visit all locations personally and obtain our own data. This is the only way everyone can ensure the data is… pure.” 

There were times where Namjoon worried that Yoongi might be a little _too_ good at bluffing his way out of things. It had always nagged at him a little whenever he did it to his friends, especially the youngest three of the group. But that meant no hard. These situations, though- Yoongi was a natural. And now Jungkook was just the same. Right now - and most times - it benefit them, but would there come a time where it would come to bite them all in the ass?

“I understand. Yes, yes.” Bearnard nodded. “Well in that case I’ll be more than happy to help ye. I can tell ye everything I know and show ye exactly where Giselda was last seen. Poor lass was just a naive Muggle, strollin’ in the wrong places at the wrong times. Gentle soul, that one.”

“Yes,” Yoongi glanced at Namjoon. “Please take us there.”

“Right now?”

“Please.”

“Well, alright. I’ll change me shirt after we’ve been there.” The boys noticed Bearnard’s exceptionally bright green shirt, which was now pretty much drenched in sweat. “Grab on. We’ll Apparate into the park.”

A few seconds later, they found themselves in the middle of a large field of grass. There were groups of trees around them in the distance, but the park stretched just about as far as the eye could see. There was no one else to be found, which seemed a little strange considering what a sunny day it was. Perhaps it was a little too hot for Kelso’s liking.

Yoongi and Namjoon both looked around the area, but found there was nothing but grass and trees to see, really. They stared at Bearnard for a moment, waiting for him to start his story. The burning hot sun made Yoongi a lot less patient today. Not that he was particularly patient on any other day.

“So Giselda,” he said. “Is this the exact spot where she was last seen?”

“Indeed it was,” Bearnard answered in a tone that did not quite seem to fit him. It was too calm. The anxious, sweaty man of mere moments ago seemed to have completely gone. “And this is where I saw that _mysterious_ blonde woman. That’s the one ye’re after, isn’t it?”

Neither of the boys answered. It was completely quiet in the park. There wasn’t even a breeze or bird to break the silence between them, only the almost palpable tension that had suddenly built up. One that had risen from the change of tone in Bearnard’s voice and the way he carried himself; his entire demeanour. It was wrong. All wrong.

“Ye’re looking for her, right?” Bearnard grinned at his own rhetorical question. He had his own answer ready.

“FULGAR-” 

“Petrificus totalus.”

Namjoon heard his spell break on his tongue as it turned to stone. Bearnard, who was still in the same spot as he had been, grinning like a madman, disappeared from sight as Namjoon hit the ground. Hard. With his entire body completely petrified, he had no chance of catching himself, and he heard his ribs crack as he landed on them. The pain was excruciating, but he couldn’t produce the faintest sound. Something in his thigh snapped, too. He heard a loud thud next to him and knew Yoongi had fallen with him. All the could see now was a sideways view of the endless stretch of grass. Then, people- their legs, at least. He heard them talk to each other, but the throbbing pain in his side was screaming at him and made it hard to concentrate. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t move. It was completely hopeless. He knew better than to try, yet he still did, with all his might. No use. It was over.

“The other two?”

_That voice._

“Wiped.”

“Good.”

 _No… No!_ He tried to scream, _NO! NOT HER!_

But his worst nightmare came true right before his eyes when a face appeared before his. Everything they had been afraid of and worse; right here in front of him, squatting before him. With that devious smile of hers.

“Eva?” 

“Yes?” she replied, carefully studying Namjoon’s face. She reached out with her hand and stroked his cheek. Her smile was deviously gentle. Namjoon felt every inch of him trying to resist; wanting to punch her square in the face. Even if it would break every unbroken rib he had left in his body. 

“We ought to go.”

“Right,” she softly replied, her hand still on Namjoon’s face. “Let’s finally take Mr Min to where he belongs, shall we?” She lifted her wand and pointed it directly at him.

_YOONGI! YOONGI- NO! FUCK OFF! FUCK, HELP! YOONGI! JIN! HOBI!_

Namjoon felt hot tears burn up behind his eyes that couldn’t break past the petrification; all the rage and fear inside of him whirling violently through his blood and muscles and bones. Everything was spinning out of focus in front of him as the pain became unbearable and completely took over. It was all around him, gripping him tightly and keeping him pinned down. Not only the pain of what had snapped inside of his body, but his mind, too. He was going crazy.

 _PLEASE… P-please…_

“Don’t worry, love,” Livraile calmly said. “You won’t remember any of this.” The smile vanished from her face. “Obliviate.”

###### 

Namjoon stared at his hand again, frowning once more as he’d done at least three, if not four times in the past minute alone. As he came closer to where he needed to be, he couldn’t shake the feeling he was forgetting something important. Perhaps this place _was_ the important thing, and he hadn’t forgotten at all. Although he could not seem to recognise his own handwriting.

When the church finally came in sight, after having searched for it for a good hour, he stopped dead in his tracks as two people turned his way, the shade of the large tree they were standing under shielding them from the burning sun.

 _”Namjoon?”_ Hoseok’s eyes widened. Seokjin, who was standing next to him, looked just as bewildered, but didn’t say a word. He kept staring at Namjoon, who hadn’t moved an inch. “What… you- where did…” Hoseok stumbled over his words, and although Namjoon understood was he was trying to ask, he had no answers. Only the same questions.

“Where are we?” Namjoon decided to ask as he joined his friends in the shade.

“Kelso,” Hoseok answered slowly. 

Namjoon nodded slowly. “Yes, but…”

 _Why? And how?_ were the words burning on his lips. But one look at his friends and he knew he needn’t ask.

Seokjin remained silent, staring off into the distance with a racing mind. It was as though his mind had gone into overdrive trying to analyse what was happening. There was always a logical answer to things. _Always_.  
The longer Namjoon stared at Seokjin, the more his limbs started to tingle as he felt his mind drifting away; almost as if it was disconnecting from his physical body as reality had started to warp into something he could not comprehend.

Silence.

“How did you find us?” Hoseok asked, his voice low.

Namjoon let his gaze drop and stared at the address written on his hand. 

_**North Parish Church** _  
_**42 Bowmont St** _

The black ink was starting to fade now, likely due to how much he’d seemingly been sweating so much. Both Hoseok and Seokjin glanced down at their hands, too. Simultaneously, they lifted their hands up in the air so they could all see.

It was the same address. Same handwriting.

Silence.

“Did you…” Namjoon started, feeling as if he was about to ask something incredibly stupid. “Did either of you two… write these?”

Seokjin shook his head and lowered his arm back down, swallowing thickly. 

“No.” Hoseok’s breathing got heavier. “Did you?”

“No.”

“I’m freaking out- _freaking out!_ ” Hoseok hissed between his teeth. He placed his index- and middle finger on the palm of his hand and moved down. “My heart rate is insane. This is bad. I need to… to…” He let himself fall back against the trunk of the tree and sank down on the grass. “When… when the hell did we get to Kelso?!”

Namjoon wanted nothing more than to calm his friend down. But instead of being the comforting force he was hoping to be, watching Hoseok spiral into a state of panic infected him, too. He suddenly felt his heart rate rise- or thought he did. Surely it did. 

“We followed through.”

It was Seokjin who finally spoke. His ever cryptic words were of no help to either of his friends, but he seemed unaware. “We did… we did follow through. But why? And how?”

“What the _fuck_ are you talking about?!” Hoseok snapped at him from below.

“The Kelso plan.” Seokjin’s tone was monotone, almost mechanical. “We planned to come here, didn’t we?”

“I…” Namjoon said. “I think we did. No- yes, we did. But we… we called it off, didn’t we?” He felt confident in answering that question. But that made him feel no better.

“Right. We did,” Seokjin replied, nodding. They _had_ called it off. He remembered now. Vaguely. But why were they all here then? “We need to go back.”

“Now?”

“Yes. To evaluate the situation.” Seokjin held his hand up, showing them the black ink once more. “Tell me, do you guys remember anything about today? Anything at all?”


End file.
